Carpe Noctem
by Kat-'No Quarter
Summary: A dark predator has ravaged Central, slaying everything within its night-shadowed clutches, leaving no trace other than an invisible bloodtrail. The Elric brothers inadvertently became deeply involved in the serial murder, much to their great misfortune..
1. Prologue

A/N: New story idea I've had for a while now and just not been able to figure out how to bring it about. Hope I achieved what I wanted to achieve, lol. *sweatdrop!* Takes place about two years after the manga/Brotherhood ends.

One quick thing: though I do not believe that this story requires an M rating, let me know if you feel as though it would do better under one rather than its current T rating. I don't want someone upset over an improper rating and hence causing me to be kicked off of . *yet another sweatdrop!*

Fair warning for all my happy readers: this is NOT like my other stories. It's dark, gory, and overall more serious than "Entwined Sorcery." Less fun and puns, more crime mystery and what-not-and gruesomeness, too, for I do quite enjoy the occasional bloodbath. :) enjoy, all!

all things Fullmetal Alchemist (c) Hiromu Arakawa

**Carpe Noctem...Seize the Night**

**Prologue: Murder Begins**

_The Demon of the Night shall stalk its prey,_

_The unknown victim unforeseen his fate_

_For the Killer of the Light is famished to-night,_

_A hunger that will take much to sate._

_No one is safe, even when the moon is high_

_No one is safe when the Monster is nigh._

...`c.n.`...

And the monster was very much nigh this fateful night. The clouds severely dampened the moon's glow, leaving all wanderers upon Central's streets dependent upon the dim streetlamps and their own poor human eyes. Demons and phantoms alike depend on such shadowing by which to do their own bidding, their soulless beings becoming increasingly attracted to the innocence walking the boulevard. One certain beast looked up at the sound of a clock tower tolling, its crimson eyes sparkling in the crystalline blackout.

The Witching hour was upon them all.

With a throat famished raw with bloodlust, the beast swept deeper into the town's shadows, lurking, searching for a favorable bite, for a tender piece of flesh to dig into. His vision became set upon a victim at last; a young woman, walking alone, carrying nothing upon her person but a small shoulder bag. Virtually unarmed and unknowing of any sort of potential danger lurking nearby; just as the vampire liked them.

The attack was immediate; her screams of fear and agony were not even given a split second's chance to be heard as he flung her into a darkened alleyway, cupping his steely-gripped hand upon her shaking lips, his dirty fingernails digging into the soft skin on her face. He took some time to ravish in her frightened appearance, his hungry eyes trailing down her body, his forked, rough tongue caressing her neck, flicking over it again and again, as if the thin skin barely cloaking her rich veins and arteries was a delectable delicacy to behold. His prey flinched as she felt herself being dragged further down into the alley, into the darkness, caught within the very grasp of Hell itself. But there was nothing left to do; the killer was much too strong for her to resist any further. Her tearful eyes widened even further, however, as she stared at two elongated fangs that emerged from the creature's mouth; they then rolled to the back of her head as he bit down into her jugular. His chapped lips moved around the puncture wounds, gluttonously sucking up all of the blood from within her petite body.

Not a single drop of the beautiful liquid was spilt, not an ounce of the life-giving substance gone to waste.

The girl soon became limp and cold in the predator's grasp, and she lay, mouth-agape, like a dead-eyed ragdoll, staring up into the heaven-less sky. The vampire smirked as he watched a dark bruise slowly begin to form around the fatal bite marks upon her neck, from which no blood was seeping out, for there was no blood left in the girl's body any longer. The demonic creature to care to swipe his tongue over said wound, however, in order to allow his saliva to seep into his victim's skin and close up the marks, shielding any identity of what caused this death to the unknown outside world. After throwing his blood-dried feast for the night roughly down upon the cold, unforgiving concrete, the vampire looked up into the emerging crescent moon, basking in its feeble glow for a moment before sprinting into the night, leaving the dead, forgotten body behind for Central Command to waltz upon come the dawn of the next day…

_No one is safe when the Monster is nigh._

…`c.n.`…


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: all things Fullmetal Alchemist (c) Hiromu Arakawa

**Carpe Noctem...Seize the Night**

**Chapter One: Bloodless**

_"Cold and spineless, have you no soul?_

_Wicked minded, out of control and guided_

_By their hunger; they will find new ways to betray us__…__"_

-"Innocence" by Disturbed

...`c.n.`...

_Dear Al,_

_I've recently returned to Central from my journeys out West and was wondering if you would like to meet up sometime in the near future to pool in all that we've learned and to catch up. After all, it's been too long, hasn't it?_

_Do take extra care when you travel, though; my return to Central was greeted with sorrow. There have been a long series of recent, heartless murders occurring in the last month or so; Mustang is literally being buried with numerous case files and investigations concerning said murders. It warms my heart to see him squirm so much! But seriously, it's been bad. There is close to no evidence at every scene of each murder, leaving tracking the fiend to be an especially tiresome task. I've been helping as much as I can around Central command, and though I am not able to do much due to the fact that I no longer serve the government, General Mustang says that he appreciates every bit I do. _

_He may be a bastard, but I suppose I owe him a favor or two._

_We could use help from you, Jerso and Zampano, too, if you guys have the time to do so. It would help immensely to have another alchemist and two chimeras to add to our team, after all, seeing as I'm just about as useless as Mustang on a rainy day nowadays...ugh. I can't believe I've just sunk so low as to compare myself to General Bastard! I need to see you again, Al; maybe you can talk some sense into me. Let me know if you can come to Central. I figure that I will be here quite a while longer due to this big murder case I stupidly got involved in._

_Missing you a ton, brother,_

_Ed._

Edward brushed his bangs out of his eyes as he set the pen down, re-reading the concise letter to his brother one last time before reaching to grab an envelope from the right-hand corner of General Mustang's desk. He really was missing Al a lot, more than he thought he would. After all they had been through together; it was just abnormal to be apart for such an extended period of time. Ed was okay while he was traveling and keeping busy with researching and what-not, but now while he was in Central working on this brutal case, he found himself missing his little brother's cheerful demeanor more and more every day.

"...I believe that desk belongs to _me_, Elric."

Ed looked up from his letter and grinned evilly as Brigadier General Mustang entered the large room, Lieutenant General Hawkeye following close behind him, her amber eyes shining with slight amusement at the sight of the young man grinning at them from behind the immense piece of furniture. He did not budge as the General approached, however, and instead kicked his boots up and rested them upon the desk lazily, bringing his arms around to the back of his head.

"Hate to break it to you, General, but I've temporarily commandeered it...or maybe _not_ so temporarily. I kind of like the view from here," he said matter-of-factly, spinning the chair around so that he could see clearly through the giant bay windows behind the desk. Mustang crossed his arms in annoyance.

"I don't suppose you've finished all of the paperwork I assigned to you before I left for lunch, have you?"

Ed rolled his eyes and jabbed a finger towards the large pile of neatly stacked and sorted file folders at the far left-hand corner of the desk.

"Unlike you, General, I am quick and complete with my file work."

"See to it that you continue to do so and you can keep the desk," Mustang said, the giddy relief that he didn't have to do paperwork that afternoon after all grabbed the pile and sat down on the couch with the files, flipping through them nonchalantly.

"They are in chronological order, correct?"

"Yes, the most recent of the murders on top," Ed said as he turned back to face the duo.

"Detective Grahnger said that there wasn't any sign of foul-play or anything at last night's crime scene. Not even a single drop of blood, and yet the victim was found without a single ounce of it in her body."

"Her? So they've identified the victim?" Ed inquired. Riza nodded:

"Melanie Drews. She was only nineteen years old."

Edward's eyes became downcast with sadness; she was so _young_, only a year older than himself, and yet her life was so swiftly swept away from her, like a rug from beneath her unassuming feet.

"And there's no pattern within the victims list whatsoever. Even the ages are randomly picked. _Damn_," Mustang cursed, running a stressed-out palm through his jet-black hair. "And nothing of any use upon the corpse except for a fingerprint-less bruise on the neck, right?"

"Right," Riza said grimly. "We still have nothing to go by."

"How do we know that these murders were cause by a human?" Edward said, throwing out something to consider. "After all, if there are no fingerprints or footprints or anything human-like to trace back to at any of the crime scenes, then-"

"But that still doesn't explain how there's none of the victim's blood on the ground," Mustang interrupted impatiently.

"That's true; an animal would not have made such a clean job of killing," Riza pointed out, sitting on the sofa across from Mustang. Ed slumped down onto the desk, frustration at their unfruitfulness beginning to slowly simmer within him. He followed the file in Mustang's hands as he tossed it back onto the desk, watching as the papers all plopped down in unison, their soft _slap_ echoing in the intense thickness of the room's atmosphere. It's never a good day at Central Command whenever lives are taken, especially when the military's detectives and officers have not one single lead as to whom the killer may be. It makes the government look bad, which makes the top officers—Brigadier General Mustang, for instance—sour-face and grumpy. Ed tapped his fingers once more upon the large desk, then stood from Mustang's chair at last, walking to the front of the desk, to stand in front of the General and his Lieutenant.

"…Take me to that crime scene."

...`c.n.`...

"Detective!"

Detective Grahnger looked up from the trashcan he was dusting for evidence, his spectacles slipping down his nose at the action.

"Lieutenant, General…" he looked questionably at Edward, who responded by extending a hand out to the officer.

"Edward Elric, former state alchemist."

"Ah! An alchemist!" the detective exclaimed excitedly. "Perhaps you can help me with my newest hypothesis, then, even if you no longer practice the science. Come over here, lad, if you will…"

Ed looked back and raised an eyebrow at the General, who shrugged.

"Detective Grahnger has always been eccentric. Get used to it."

"Gotcha," the blonde replied, quickly following the lean, mustached officer to the scene of the crime. At the sight of the CRIME SCENE tape and the chalked-in outline of where the dead body laid upon the concrete, Ed gulped, an eerie feeling creeping up from within, making his blood run cold. He imagined the young girl's crumpled, bloodless body lying in place of the outline, her eyes cold and glossed-over in death.

"According to the autopsy report, as I'm sure the General has informed you of, the victim was found without a single drop of blood left in her body, just like the other victims before her. The coroner deduced that to be the case due to her heart's cease of function pre-mortem, for if her heart had continued to pump blood before she was completely drained there would've been clear residue within the aorta and the chambers. However, such was not the case, as you obviously know…"

He stooped down and grabbed a packet of papers out of his tan messenger bag, his gloved hands flipping momentarily through the testing reports before he continued:

"The coroner this time through did a swab of the bruise on the neck in addition to the fingerprint dusting, something not previously done on the other victim. He sent in the swab after the fingerprint dusting came back negative, as you know by the police report, doubtless. Now, unfortunately I just received word about two hours ago from the lab, and they've reported that the DNA testing failed, for the sample we sent in was apparently either impartial or non-human."

"Non-human?" Ed interrupted, looking back at Mustang and Hawkeye, who quickly approached the pair at the sound of such news. Grahnger's nonchalant response was a simple shrug:

"It's like I said, it could've just been too impartial of a sample to be tested. Saliva, though not nearly as solid an example of evidence as fingerprints, is much like that same type of evidence in the sense that it is necessary for one to acquire a complete sample in order to be properly tested. If there is not enough DNA, or not enough of a whole image of a fingerprint, the evidence is inconclusive. Same goes with saliva; without enough to make a solid DNA hypothesis, the evidentiary usefulness of the sample becomes completely invalid, and we can no longer use it to prove our case, or to find our killer. Unfortunately."

"So, wait," Ed spoke up, his head still spinning with all of the legal terms the detective quickly threw out at him. "You mean to say that there was _saliva_ found on the girl's body?"

The detective nodded firmly: "yes, upon her neck."

"Then, does that mean she was—"Hawkeye began to inquire, but was interrupted by Grahnger.

"There were no signs of sexual assault and no evidence of penetration; therefore we can deduce that the victim was not raped before she was killed. We've yet to find a sensible motive for the saliva upon her neck."

Sexual assault. Penetration. Saliva. _Goddamn_, Edward thought, shaking his horror-struck head, attempting to get the innocent girl's agonized face out of his head without success. _What kind of messed-up world do we live in__…?_ Mustang also shook his head in disgust, refusing to meet any of his co-worker's eyes as he stared fervently upon the chalked-up ground, seeing the blood-drained body itself rather than its ghostly silhouette.

"Come here, if you will, please, Edward," Grahnger summoned the ex-alchemist, who obeyed dutifully, peering into the shadowy corner of the alley in which the detective crouched. Ed lowered himself next to the officer, following his gaze into the brick orfices on the side of the building.

"Do you see what I see?" the detective whispered, pointed a gloved finger into a small hole in the wall. Ed squinted, attempting to see beyond a puny hole; his eyes widened as he caught sight of a damp, bluish glow in the brick, a lingering piece of light twinkling eerily.

"…do you have an extra pair of gloves I could use?"

"Yes, of course," Grahnger replied, getting up from his spot next to Ed to fetch his extra pair out of his bag. Mustang approached the boy, curiously wondering over what he was looking for.

"General, look at this," Ed said, gesturing towards the flicker. Mustang narrowed his eyes as Ed continued: "Do you think it could be the remnants of a transmutation?"

"Could be…" Mustang looked at Ed. "Are you saying you suspect a deranged alchemist could be the cause of this?"

Ed shrugged: "Your guess is as good as mine."

Grahnger returned quickly with the gloves, watching carefully as Ed slipped them on then prodded around the light-giving hole in the brick wall.

"Couldn't you just transmute the hole bigger or something instead of doing that?" the impatient detective asked. Ed huffed, turning towards Mustang.

"I can't, but you can."

"Right," Mustang said. Then, with a loud clap of his hands, the Flame Alchemist slapped his hands onto the brick, causing the hole to efficiently expand the wall's hollow orfices. The General smirked with great pride at his work:

"And to think I didn't even get the chance to thank the Homunculus that caused me to attain this awesome power!"

Lieutenant Hawkeye rolled her eyes:

"Cool it with the cockiness, sir; we're investigating a murder here."

Mustang cleared his throat: "Right…"

"Nothing," Edward declared sullenly. "Nothing but this."

Grahnger looked curiously upon the large black crystal the young man pulled out of the transmuted hole. After quickly examining it himself, Ed handed it over to the detective, who took the stone out of the dark recesses of the alley and into the sunlight in order to get a better look at it. It was a translucent black in color and was filled with a dark gray liquid, one resembling liquidated onyx.

"Perhaps they can acquire fingerprints off of this in the lab," the spectacled officer muttered, then turned and beamed at Ed. "Brilliant, Mr. Elric. You've been a tremendous help, you truly have."

He then turned towards Mustang:

"I will call you as soon as I receive the lab reports from this and send in any new autopsy reports I receive. In the meantime, do keep me informed with any news regarding anything about the case, of course."

"Will do," the Brigadier General said, firmly shaking the detective's hand before following Hawkeye and Edward back to the car.

…`c.n.`…

The food in HQ's mess hall was not exactly gourmet, but it definitely served to satisfy Ed's hunger pangs he felt after five hours of work. Even though he was no longer technically part of the military, Mustang and his subordinates have given him plenty of work regardless. He worked as hard and long as any of the other office workers, and most of it was on that blasted murder case. It seems that the only job equally as difficult as figuring out who did the murder in the first place was keeping the rest of the residents of Central calm and quiet about it. No more chaos was needed in HQ.

Ed looked up as a huge shadow loomed over him and his tray of food:

"…Hey, Major Armstrong."

"Edward Elric! How are you today?" the large, heavily muscled Major inquired as he plopped into a chair across from the ex-alchemist. Ed swallowed his mouthful of mashed potatoes before answering:

"I've been better. And I know you have, too."

"Ah, well, yes. I supposed that is true, what with this horrible murder case going on right now…"

Ed (along with everyone else at HQ) knew for a fact that the poor murdered girl was hitting the soft-hearted Major quite a bit. Especially since the victim was around the same age as his youngest sister, Catherine.

"…I just got back from the coroner's office, actually. I was not there long, mind you, but I did meet with the one who performed the autopsy."

"And?" Ed pushed the Major to continue. Armstrong sighed:

"He said there were signs of extreme hypertension throughout several of the main arteries, which could be a sign that her blood was forced out by some sort of great suctioning force."

"Suctioning force?" Ed frowned. "Not sure I like the sound of that."

"Most agreed," the Major concurred. "She was so brutally attacked; the bruising on her neck, which went away rather quickly after she had died according to the coroner, was horribly dark. He showed me some hideous pictures of it; it was unlike anything I've ever seen. Such brutality, on such an innocent young girl," Armstrong sniffed, tears welling up in his sympathetic eyes. Ed sighed; _a suctioning force and bruising on the neck…it seems like that would be the most reasonable place on her body for the blood to have been drained, but then how was she left with no cuts or incisions of any sort…?_

"Would you by any chance be willing to go back to the coroner's office tomorrow? I'd like to see the body but I don't have a ride."

Armstrong shuddered at the thought of witnessing that again, and then spoke:

"I believe the Brigadier General mentioned something about visiting there tomorrow; you could probably carpool with him."

Ed huffed at the thought of being stuck with General Bastard for another whole day of crime scene investigating but nonetheless nodded. After all, until he hears back from Alphonse, his time is best spent assisting with this case and helping around Central Command as much as he can, especially if the murderer behind all of this is in fact an alchemist.

…`c.n.`…

Edward's small room on the upper level of his motel overlooked Central's main street, it's vast, stone paving stretching far into the abyss of the city in the night. Not many a star twinkled that night, which did well to suit the young ex-alchemist's mood. After all, why should the stars twinkle so lively when someone's innocent life's flame just recently went out?

After a virtually sleepless night, he met with Mustang and Hawkeye at eight-forty-five sharp to drive over to the coroner's office. When Edward approached the General and his main subordinate, Mustang opened his mouth as if to tell the boy something, but changed his mind and closed it, gesturing for him to get in the car, handing him a packet of papers Ed immediately recognized as the autopsy and police reports Detective Grahnger had given them just the other day.

"What exactly made you want to go to the coroner's with us, Edward?" Lieutenant Hawkeye inquired as she started the car.

"I feel like I'll be able to make a better-educated guess on the cause of death if I see the aftermath," he explained, resting his chin upon his palm as he stared thoughtfully out the window. Mustang huffed:

"You better not freak out at the sight of the corpse…"

Ed glowered at the General.

"I have a stronger stomach than that, you know; I'm not just a kid anymore, Mustang!"

"Yeah, sure," Mustang waved him off, not wanting to hear the ex-alchemist's ranting.

The coroner's office, which supposedly opened at nine o'clock sharp every normal weekday, was still locked up when the trio arrived on location at nine-thirteen. Mustang looked upon the closed sign, muttering something inaudible about damned unpunctuality. Hawkeye and Ed looked at each other and shrugged as they made themselves as comfortable as possible upon the stone benches in front of the looming white building, Hawkeye taking the autopsy papers from Edward in order to look through them herself before the meeting. As he idly looked about the hedges and the small shrubbery around the perimeter of the office looked decently tended-to, Ed couldn't help wondering sadistically if the landscapers purposely allowed the flowers to die as a symbol of what lies inside the establishment.

"Sorry for the tardiness, all of you," came an annoyed voice from behind the small group. Dr. Knox approached quickly, bearing keys to the office and his black leather doctor's bag. "Dr. Chast got caught up with something at Central Medical and sent me to meet with you this morning last-minute, the damned bastard."

"Weren't you the one who did the most recent victim's autopsy, though?" Mustang inquired, his confused expression turning to one of surprise as Dr. Knox, the newly re-appointed head director to Central's coroner's office, shook his head firmly.

"That was one of Chast's students who cut up Drews. Did a really clean job of it, too, I'd say, he's a better pathologist than Chast himself.

Mustang face palmed; it was such a _comfort_ to him that the city's law enforcement officers allowed an autopsy on a victim of first-degree murder to be performed by a pathology student rather than by an expert in the area. Dr. Knox ignored the distasteful gesture:

"Well, hurry up and come in already!"

_Good morning to you, too, Dr.! _Ed thought amusedly. _He sure hasn't changed much since Al and I last saw him._

"Oh, by the way, good to see you, Edward," the doctor said over his shoulder. "You're looking well."

"Thanks, you too, doctor," Ed replied, observing the windowed hallways they were walking down with slight trepidation. There were numerous other doors with small windows right next to them, and upon peeking, Ed could see that a couple of rooms bore a body on their silver examination tables, the object of investigation covered only by a thin white sheet.

"And how is Alphonse doing? I'm surprised to see he's not with you, actually."

"He's doing great, last I heard from him," Ed said, looking away from the eerie scene. "Which was about a month ago, if I'm remembering correctly. He's researching alchemy abroad right now."

"Well, that's good to hear," he muttered, finally stopping and unlocking a door to one of the numerous examination rooms. "Here we are, and here are a few masks if the formaldehyde gets to you."

After grabbing a pair of latex gloves and putting on his lab coat, Knox swiftly lifted the thin white sheet up and off of the body of Melanie Drews. Ed gulped at the sight; her skin was nearly translucent, easily revealing what remained of her deoxygenated veins and arteries running up her arms and legs. The bruise on her neck, just as Detective Grahnger had stated yesterday, did clear up decently, but its remains were obvious, the distinct purplish mark upon her paper-thin skin showing up like a fly in a glass of milk. Upon looking within her hazel eyes, Ed's heart dropped into the dark abyss of his stomach as he recognized her frozen expression of deathly fear.

"'Melanie Drews, female, age 19, was found at six-fifty-eight am on the morning of blah blah blahh,'" Dr. Knox read off of the clipboard hanging from the examination table. "…ok, here we go. 'Most probable cause of death: exsanguination by means of intentional manslaughter—'geez, _that's_ vague—'engendered by a single laceration of the jugular vein. Though no cuts or punctures were found upon the victim's neck, there is internal evidence suggesting that was the precise spot of incision, including but not limited to the punctures found upon the _Pterygoid plexus_. Various other spots of bruising and mild scraping across the limbs suggest the usage of brute force upon the victim pre-mortem…'"

Dr. Knox looked up from the report to frown upon the dissected victim. Mustang also approached the body:

"Punctures in the what?"

"_Pterygoid plexus_, the scientific name of the largest jugular vein, the most probable vein for a killer to stab in order to efficiently drain a person's blood."

"Ok, well, I suppose there's one half of the proof," Mustang reasoned concernedly. "But then where are the punctures on the neck?"

"Good question," Knox muttered bemusedly. "The murderer must've closed the wounds somehow…but how he did is a complete loss to me."

The pathologist turned to Edward, motioning for him to take a look for himself. Ed obeyed, peering over the deceased girl's neck. Sure enough, just as the men had stated, the neck was clear of any sort of lacerations, other than the single thin cut the medical student had made in order to perform the autopsy, of course.

"Is there any way you can think of that the puncture wound could be closed up via alchemy?" Knox inquired of the ex-alchemist. Ed frowned, thinking back to how he had used alchemy to close his fatal wounds in the fallen mine on Briggs. He remembered how the cuts had looked after doing so, relatively rough and not at all completely gone like upon this victim's neck. _But at the same time_, he remembered, _my alchemy wasn't at one hundred-percent because I was hurt so badly_. With that last thought, he looked up at the doctor:

"I'm sure it's possible, depending of course upon just how skilled the alchemist is."

"Right," Knox said, nodding once as he continued to skim through the report. He walked past Mustang and Ed and pointed his pen at a small bruise on Melanie Drews' waist:

"So it can be said that she was grabbed off of the sidewalk by the midsection and forcefully dragged into the alleyway, where she tried to scream but was muffled roughly," he deduced, lifting his makeshift cursor to point out a dark spot just below the poor girl's bottom lip. "Once dragged into the alley she was quickly drained of all her blood by means of a couple of puncture wounds to the jugular, wounds that were, theoretically speaking, of course, closed efficiently by means of a transmutation. After that the killer fled the scene, leaving the corpse behind in the alley where she was found the next morning."

"That sounds about right," Edward remarked as Mustang took the pencil from Knox to jot down these additions to the police report.

"Right," Knox continued. "We sent in a swab of the bruise on her neck, did those lab results get back to you?"

"Yes, but unfortunately Detective Grahnger said that the sample was too impartial to be properly tested and that we couldn't use it at evidence," Mustang informed the coroner. Dr. Knox frowned at this unfortunate news as the Lieutenant General asked:

"I don't know if this is possible, but is there any way to have the victim's wrists and waist dusted for fingerprinting or anything like that?"

"Not at this point in the investigation, unfortunately; if the saliva sample was inconclusive then any fingerprint dusting would be darn near pointless…"

The four of them looked back at the body, all pondering over what their next move should be.

…`c.n.`…

It was nearly three in the morning, and Ed was still staring at the updated police report strewn upon his unused bed. He stared at the names until they began to float off of the page, spinning around in his mind. There were no connections to be made with any of the six victims, just that they were all found in alleyways or behind dumpsters in dark, remote corners of the city's limits and they were all obviously killed by the same person in the same manner. They weren't related in any ways; they weren't all girls or all in a certain age range or anything of the sort. Just completely randomized killing.

Ed sighed: _we're getting absolutely nowhere with this case, and people are going to keep dying until we catch this sicko. Someone could be out there right now, about to be unknowingly attacked…_

At this though, the ex-alchemist lifted his head to look out the window into the dark early morning. A thin sliver of a moon could barely be seen behind some thin gray clouds, and Ed could see shadows rippling across the streets, lightly illuminated by the lamps trailing the streets. Without a second thought Ed found himself exiting the room and swiftly running down the stairs and out of the motel's front doors into the ominous city streets.

_The hell am I doing out here?_ he thought to himself as his golden eyes scoured the streets for anything suspicious-looking. Blowing his bangs out of his face, he turned around to scan the opposite side of the street. Still nothing that he could see was going on down there. A brisk autumn night breeze whipped against his cheeks as he walked down the sidewalk on high-alert, stupidly realizing only until he was about four-hundred meters away from his motel that he was unarmed, making him completely vulnerable for an attack by an armed serial killer. He knew he should go back, but he couldn't bring himself to turn around, for what if someone was being attacked right down the road from where he was standing?

He trudged onward until the clock tower ahead of him told him he'd been stalking his non-existent perpetrator for nearly half an hour. It was then that he stopped walking, sighing as he tilted his head back into the coal-black sky, the sliver-moon reflected into his irises. He hesitated only once more before finally turning and heading back, for to the right of where he stood he could've sworn he saw a shadowy figure move with its cloaking abyss, watching him, waiting for its opportune moment...

But instead Ed ended up shaking his head, frustratingly muttering to himself about seeing damned things that weren't there.

_They will find new ways to betray us…_

…`c.n.`…


	3. Chapter 2

A/N: So sorry for the super late update and for this chappy, 'cause it's kinda slow-ish. :/ I promise the next one will be much more satisfying…

Also, I decided to go with my gut instinct and switch this story to a 'Mature' rating due to its darkness and gore. It may not be too bad in its current chapters but I have ideas further down the plotline that'll most likely require this rating, and it's like I said before I do not want to get in trouble for incorrect ratings! *sweatdrop!*

all things Fullmetal Alchemist (c) Hiromu Arakawa

**Capere Noctis...Seize the Night**

**Chapter Two: Shadowed Streets**

"_I'm frightened by what I see_

_But somehow I know_

_That there's much more to come…"_

-"Whisper" by Evanescence

...`c.n.`...

Ed sipped carefully at his boiling mug of coffee as he watched Mustang struggle over the newest lab reports sent to him by Detective Grahnger. The atmosphere across HQ was even tenser than the previous days following the murder of the most recent, youngest victim. Now the military was at a standoff between just waiting for the next killing and hoping that such an occurrence will provide more DNA evidence, or praying that a miracle will come out of the new lab reports, the ones that Mustang was frowning over.

"…Still no prints. Not a single piece of DNA on that crystal you found, Ed."

"Seriously?" the blonde ex-alchemist said dumbfounded. "But _how_? I mean, the guy had to have touched it in order to get it in the crevice in the first place."

"He could've been wearing gloves," Riza said, shaking her head. "This makes everything that much more difficult, though."

Mustang huffed:

"I'm not sure where exactly to go from here."

Ed and Riza stared at the Brigadier General; it was very unlike him to not have any sort of action plan up his sleeve, let alone to be completely unsure about _anything_. Just as Ed opened his mouth to say so, however, Armstrong promptly walked through the doors of the large office. Mustang glanced up:

"What is it, Major?"

"The Fuhrer has requested a meeting with you, Lieutenant Hawkeye and Edward this afternoon at one o'clock, sir."

Mustang blinked, pondering this for a short moment, then nodded once:

"Tell him I will see him then. We all will."

…`c.n.`…

"…You're telling me there is absolutely no way for them to track the killer?"

"That's right," Mustang and Ed said in unison. They looked at each other, then hastily looked away uncomfortably. Riza backed up their statements:

"Detective Grahnger sent in several samples and dustings, plus a crystal-type thing Edward discovered hidden on the scene, but none of those tests came back positive for any sort of DNA."

Fuhrer Grumman sat forward in his chair: "What crystal?"

"It was about as big as my fist," Ed began to describe the weird object. "And it was black, but not solid; it was more like a transparent dark glass, and it looked as if it was filled with some type of liquid."

"How strange," Grumman muttered, and then spoke up. "See if Grahnger could possibly do one more fingerprint dusting of it, and if that one also comes back negative, tell him to try and break open the thing and perform tests of the liquid inside. Even if that doesn't give us a hint of any kind towards _who_ the perpetrator is, it can still give us clues to some sort of ulterior motive he may have behind the killings."

"Right," Mustang replied, nodding. "I will see too that."

"Good, good," said the Fuhrer to his Brigadier General before turning to the eldest Elric brother. "I would like to take the time to personally thank you for all of the help you've been, Edward. It means a lot to see that you're still willing to assist us, even though you are no longer a State Alchemist."

Ed smiled slightly:

"It's the least I could do, seeing as you all helped me and my brother out so much. I mean, even though I'm not an alchemist anymore, I still believe in the law of Equivalent Exchange."

Grumman smiled: "Well, we are certainly grateful for that, especially at a dark time like this…"

His smile dissipated. Mustang cleared his throat:

"One last thing you should know, since you and Ed mentioned alchemy; Dr. Knox and Detective Grahnger both brought up a valid point that since there is a great lack of evidence in every scene of each murder, plus no signs of lacerations of any sort on the victims, the murderer may be using some form of alchemy to commit his crimes."

Grumman pondered this.

"…What does it mean if this hypothesis is true?"

Mustang looked at Edward, then back at Grumman:

"It will make catching this guy a bit trickier, and will most likely require we bring in some more State Alchemists for back-up if we find that Major Armstrong and I aren't enough."

"Also, Alphonse may be coming back to Central soon," Edward piped up. "Along with Zampano and Jerso, we'd have a pretty good team."

"Three alchemists and two chimeras," Grumman listed, sizing up the team. "That may work. We'll need to find out as soon as possible in some way or another whether or not this murderer is using alchemy first, though."

"Right," Mustang and Ed chimed, immediately shooting each other a glare afterwards.

"Stop that," Mustang snapped.

"Hey, I'm not the one copying an eighteen-year-old here!" Ed retorted. Riza huffed, facing away from the two of them in order to address the Fuhrer:

"Is there anything else, or did we manage to cover everything?"

Grumman chuckled:

"Are you so eager to leave, Lieutenant?"

Riza blinked:

"No, that's not it, sir, I just wanted to make sure we don't get off-topic here."

"Same old Riza, always trying to keep me and Mustang on task," Grumman said, smiling, but only for a split second before returning to the dark business at hand. "Nope, I think we've covered everything I wanted to meet with you all about. Get me my evidence, Mustang; I want this gruesome murder case to get closed up already."

"You and me both, sir," Mustang replied, rising from his seat, his first Lieutenant and Edward following suit. Grumman held up his hand in order to communicate with them to stay for a moment.

"Just one last thing, Ed?"

Ed looked up:

"Yes sir?"

Grumman's eyes sparkled.

"Do let me know as soon as Alphonse gets in town; I'd love to meet up with the two of you for some tea sometime."

…`c.n.`…

_To be in love with Death is to meet true dementia, for it is at that distinct point in time that the Beast within—the very same one that resides within us all—is released. This is how a killer is born, how a slaughter begins. It chains one's soul down to the wrought, molten iron gates of Hell below, securing the inevitable dark path for all who succumb to the Beast. Blood red carpets have been laid out across the world, and they will only continue to spread as mankind loses all goodwill, their consciousness nothing more than a dwindling flame, all senses and ethics tarnished for good. After all, everyone has their inner demons; it's the murderous bastards of the world that exhibit said evil the best, the most. _

_And this, Edward Elric, is what has infested the streets of your beloved Central. Are you prepared for what's next? Are you ready to consume all of the blood running down the streets into the gutters of your very own, still-beating heart—? _Ed rapidly awoke and jolted upright in his bed. Sweat beaded down the side of his face as he struggled to regain all the oxygen he was deprived of whilst choking on his disturbing nightmare.

_The fuck was that? _he thought as he haggardly rose from the comfort of his sheets, his bare feet tapping mildly upon the floor, his automail limb making ever-so-slight indentions into the thin carpet material as he paced quietly. Edward was very much used to having to deal with haunting dreams and grueling nightmares, but there was something in this one that left him feeling absolutely frigid inside. It was as if this dream was like an omen of some sort, as if his subconscious was trying to tell him something of dire importance. He padded over to the closed window overlooking his bed, leaning against the pane as he observed the crescent slit of light upon on a black sheet of a night sky smiling deviously at him from above.

"…What the fuck is wrong with _me_," he whispered to himself, still greatly troubled about the contents of his nightmare. After all, it did come from _his_ subconscious, which meant it was brought about by his own thoughts, no one else's. Ed rested his head upon his folded arms, the moonlight reflected silver upon his gold irises as he stared at it with unease…

In a sudden slit-second decision Ed stood back up and quickly re-dressed himself, grabbing his coat and room key as he bolted out of his hotel room. Once outside he could feel his already fast-beating heart pick up in tempo in the midst of possible danger. Here he was on the streets at night, once again unarmed and unprepared for whatever may stumble across his path. He knew that he had to stay alert in case he happened upon the murderer, though, lest he become the next victim himself. He patrolled the streets, scanning every alley, every backstreet, and any shadow he came across…

And then he stopped.

"What am I _thinking_?" Ed spoke to the silence, shaking his head and turning promptly on his heel, back towards the direction of his hotel. He caught sight of another soul wandering the streets, however, and ran across the street to them.

"Hey!" he shouted as he waved the woman down. "Hey miss, wait up!"

The woman stopped walking and turned with a questioning look upon her face.

"…Can I help you, young man?"

"No, but thanks," Ed said as he stopped in front of her and caught his breath. "But don't you know that this is a really dangerous time to be wandering the streets? You don't know what could be out there."

The woman narrowed her eyes at Edward, who innocently raised his hands up in an effort to show her that he meant no harm. At this she nodded once:

"Yes, I know it was foolish of me, but I had to. You see, my son is back at the house, and I'm afraid he's terribly sick. His father is out of town for a business trip, therefore leaving us without a car. So I had to walk to the doctor's house instead; he had some fever-reducing pills I could have for Austin," she explained, showing Ed the parcel she carried in her right hand. Ed's gaze softened, empathy towards the poor lady's predicament intermixing with honest concern for her well-being. It was quite possible that she was completely unaware of the recent murders occurring right under her nose, and Ed could see a sort of innocent, clueless look in her eyes. Also, Central Command had yet to release to the news reporters and the radio stations information about the murders so as to keep the paranoia at a minimum; only the families of the deceased knew what was going on, and the officers made an effort to have them all swear an oath of silence, at least until the perp was taken in. So this woman really was only a mother looking to get home so that she could care for her son.

Ed sighed:

"The at least let me escort you home to your son, so that you aren't alone."

The woman smiled gratefully at Edward.

"Thank you very much for the kind offer, but I'm ok," she said, nodding down the street as she continued:

"My house is only just around that corner and down the street. I appreciate your concern, though; you have such a caring heart!"

There was really nothing he could do to change her mind, Ed could see that. _Her house really isn't that far anyway_, he thought. So with that he feebly returned the woman's smile and waved farewell as they finally parted ways. With the end of that brief encounter, Ed glanced back at the illuminated clack tower once more and then hurriedly began his lonely trek home. The woman turned and started down the opposite direction, the moon providing little light upon her path. She could definitely understand her visitor's concern, and she knew before she left the house that she was being risky, but she was a grown woman, she could take care of herself.

The wind began to pick up slightly, a breeze becoming more like a gust. The woman drew her light cloak tighter around her as she approached the corner that would lead her onto her street, gritting her teeth in an effort to keep from shivering. She paused after a couple of steps, listening carefully to the sounds being carried by the wind, turning her head slightly to look over her shoulder.

_I could've sworn I heard footsteps coming from behind me…ah well. I must be hearing things._

And so she turned back to face her path home—just in time to see a wide pair of crimson eyes staring ravenously into her soul. Her gasp of horror began a choke of grueling pain as a rough palm was forced over her mouth and nose, silencing her whilst she was dragged into the shadows of an empty parking lot. Her eyes frantically made an effort to adjust to the blackness in order to get a good look of her attacker, but it was in vain. His grasp was painful, the hand not clawing into her jaw pressing hard into her heaving abdomen, forcing her down upon the cold concrete ground. She felt him straddle her, felt her brain shake when he shoved her face down on its side, sending invisible hairline fractures across her skull. She thought she was going to be raped, to be ravaged until she could no longer feel herself, could no longer coherently understand her purpose upon the earth, but she was wrong. The dark figure instead leaned over and hungrily chomped into her neck, and her eyelids fluttered as she felt a painful jerk to her chest. _He's drinking my blood; he's going to murder me! _She though in anguish as realization finally kicked in. Suddenly she regretted not allowing the kind young man from before to escort her home; he could've protected her from this ugly fate. _Oh God, no, please, don't, I have a son…my son…Austin…_

His claw-like fingers were still viciously clamped upon her face, making it difficult for her to breathe let alone plead with him. He pressed his body down upon her shivering figure as he continued to gulp down the warm liquid in pleasure, pleasure that only grew as he felt her heartbeat slow against him and eventually frailly fail altogether. When all substance was sucked dry he sat up, smiling darkly at her empty eyes, her slightly parted lips, the dried stains of tears trailing her cheekbone.

At last the bloodthirsty Beast was satisfied for the night.

…`c.n.`…

"It's getting bad out there," Armstrong said the next morning, throwing a copy of the day's newspaper down onto Mustang's desk. Ed curiously looked away from the window over Mustang's shoulder at the front page headline: SECRET KILLINGS IN CENTRAL?

"It was only a matter of time before the media made the first move," Armstrong continued. "You know as well as the Fuhrer does that the people do not like being left in the dark."

"Yes, but sometimes that's necessary," Mustang replied, handing the ever-curious Ed the paper. "Scour that and see if there's anything in there they shouldn't know yet." The former Fullmetal Alchemist walked over to the couch and began to intently read the article, searching for anything signifying that someone had given the media unauthorized information.

"Sergeant Fuery," Mustang called over to his communication's expert, who did not immediately hear him due to the headset he had currently covering his ears. Breda nudged him and then nodded toward his superior officer; Fuery hastily took of his headphones:

"Yes sir?"

"Listen in to the local news stations today and tonight and make a note of anything they may say about or to hint upon the murders. We don't want _any_ information leaking out unexpectedly."

"Way ahead of you, sir!" Fuery said, and after a quick salute he dutifully returned to his headset.

…_all in all a great misfortune, and it has left everybody in town questioning not only if any of the sequential deaths are related,_ Edward read, half-listening to the exchange between Armstrong and Mustang at the same time.

"I went over to Dr. Knox's office yesterday evening to look at the updated autopsy report," Armstrong said, sitting upon the couch across from where Ed sat. "There didn't seem to be anything new in it from the old one, but he did write a rather interesting note. He said that the puncture wounds could've been closed using alchemy."

"Yes, he and Edward came up with that theory the other day," Mustang clarified. "I've already informed the Fuhrer, but you should know as well that we're beginning to wonder whether the criminal could be using alchemy in his killing."

"…That would be very bad news," Armstrong spoke gravely, his eyes widening in horror at the thought of such a predicament.

"Agreed," Ed piped up, tossing the paper upon the coffee table in front of him and the Major. "There was nothing in the article."

"And so far the radio stations have left news of the deaths out of their broadcasts," Fuery informed them from across the room. "I'll keep listening in throughout the day, but so far all clear, sir."

"Good," Mustang said with slight relief. "At least we don't have any media interference. Not yet, at least."

"Hopefully we can get this all straightened out before then," said Ed. Mustang shook his head:

"Even if we find some sort of evidence to go by there's still going to be a lot of legal things to go through in order to get a name. And after that there's still a trial to look forward to."

"The General's right," Armstrong said. "It'll be quite some time before this case is completely straightened out, unfortunately."

"Well, we need to hurry up and tell the people what's going on, then," Ed remarked. "It's not right, leaving completely in the dark like this."

"Absolutely not!" Mustang barked, earning himself a glare from the young Elric. "If the citizens of Central hear that these deaths were murders there will be mass chaos throughout, and then we'll have even more trouble to deal with here at HQ!"

"But they have the right to know what's happening where they're living!" Edward said defensively.

"And they will know, just as soon as we get a stronghold on the situation ourselves," Mustang said with finality. He huffed heavily:

"What Central doesn't know won't hurt them."

'_While our knowledge on the situation is slim to none, we are vigilantly keeping in touch with Central Command, waiting for them to release all they know about the recent deaths...'_

…`c.n.`…

The moon was nearly a complete half the fourth night Ed found himself stalking the streets. His coat was unbuttoned and billowed behind his stiffened stature, his shifting eyes focusing on nothing and everything all at once. He finally brought a weapon with him, a small knife he snatch from within Mustang's desk drawers, thought it nothing to lessen his obvious unease. In fact it worsened it, for it looked identical to the very weapon that the deceased Lieutenant Colonel Hughes had carried. But still, Ed supposed, a weapon was a weapon.

Central's sole clock tower was officially out of his sight, leaving him blinded to the precise time of the night. For all he knew, he could've been out there for thirty minutes or three hours. All he knew was that it was well past the time he had left the comfort of his hotel room, which was approximately midnight.

A shadow moved in the corner of Edward's vision, beneath the dastardly light of a blinking streetlamp. The ex-alchemist unthinkingly charged at the movement, knife bore within his slightly quaking grip. He stood just a step out of the broken streetlamp's circle of light, staring into the blackness of a foreboding alleyway expending out before him. The shadowed man—beast—_killer_ was there, no doubt about it, for Ed could sense another presence other than his own. He narrowed his golden eyes, then gasped as his sight caught upon two gleaning orbs of red hovering in the shadow.

"Edward, duck!"

The elder Elric immediately obeyed Hawkeye's sudden orders, his eardrums throbbing at the sound of her gunshots. The red eyes blinked once, and then they disappeared completely. Riza stood next to Ed, her handgun still cocked towards the alley's abyss.

"What are _you_ doing out here, Lieutenant?" Ed hissed, glancing at her, his knife still at the ready just in case the unknown predator returned to them.

"I could ask you the same," Hawkeye replied, huffing slightly as she slowly lowered her gun. "Though we both know the answer."

"Now what," Ed asked without acknowledging that her statement was correct as he stashed his feeble weapon. Hawkeye's hand dipped into the pocket of her coat and she pulled out a small flashlight, clicking it on and off once to test the battery's power.

"You should know by now that I always come prepared for the worst, Ed."

"Heh," was Ed's unintelligible response.

Their footfalls echoed off the walls of the long chasm, and they simultaneously ceased all conversation whilst they searched for their perpetrator. Ed's hands had finally stopped shaking, their nervous motions replaced by an accelerated heartbeat instead. The only source of illumination other than Hawkeye's narrow flashlight beam was the streaming moonlight, which was slowly beginning to dim out of sight as they continued further into the alleyway, increasing their fleshy vulnerability step by step…

Fifteen minutes of tense, adrenaline-filled silence passed; the crimson eyes did not show themselves again. Hawkeye sighed:

"He's gone."

"Dammit," Ed muttered as he searched around the complete perimeter of the darkness. "We were so _close_!"

"Yeah…let's get out of here," the Lieutenant said, decidedly turning on her heel and briskly exiting the alley, Ed following close behind, his face downcast upon the shadowy cobblestoned ground beneath his feet.

"I ought to tell the General that I found you out here doing unauthorized investigation work unarmed, Ed."

"Yeah, right," she shorted blonde remarked. "You won't do that, 'cause that would mean admitting that you were doing the same thing. And I am _not_ unarmed," he snarled defensively, showing the Lieutenant his feeble of choice. She looked highly unimpressed.

"Yeah, with a stolen knife; you're really protected."

"Ed huffed annoyedly, stowing the knife as he tilted his face up into the moonlight, concern lacing his facial expression.

"…I'd better start heading back home before Hayate destroys the furniture looking for me," Hawkeye said, tearing her gaze away from the alley to look at Edward. "Will you be alright?"

Ed was about to respond in his usual snarky manner, but then he realized that the Lieutenant was not only talking about his trek back to the hotel.

"…Will any of us be?"

… _there's much more to come…_

…`c.n.`…


	4. Chapter 3

A/N: I like to call this chapter the place where the story really kicks in. :) you shall see-eeee…

Now, I know I'm late on the updates for this story, and this one I was especially rushed on. In fact I may go back and edit it and re-post a better version of the chappy later if I see fit to. Hope you enjoy it enough how it is right now, though, the plot is definitely there and becoming very evident! XD

all things Fullmetal Alchemist © Hiromu Arakawa

**Carpe Noctem...Seize the Night**

Chapter Three: Unexpected Agony

"_All around me I see danger_

_And it's closing in on me_

_Every second I can hear it breathing…_

_It's waiting, always trying_

_I feel the hands of fate, they're suffocating…_"

-"Final Destination" by Within Temptation

…`c.n.`…

"…What the hell were you two thinking?"

Hawkeye and Edward looked at each other's equally exhausted faces, and then resumed their sulking in front of their furious Brigadier General.

"I couldn't sleep, so I thought it'd be better to be somewhat productive rather than just being stuck up in the hotel room."

"Same here," Riza explained after Edward:

"The case kept keeping me awake, so I decided to just continue working on it."

Roy opened his mouth to reprimand his subordinate and the ex-State Alchemist, but stopped short, his black eyes glancing over at where Warrant Officer Falman, Lieutenant Breda and Sargent Fury were sitting, obviously listening in on the confrontation with an amount of curiosity about them. Mustang narrowed his eyes at them:

"Fury, fetch us some tea; Falman and Breda, go and grab the new victim's files from the Major."

Edward blinked, rubbing the bags underneath his eyes:

"New victim's files?"

"More bodies were found?" Riza asked in horror. Mustang nodded gravely:

"Three more bodies, two men and a woman. Of course, you both would've known that already if you'd gotten here earlier…"

"Stop screwing around Mustang," Ed snarled. "Where exactly were these people found?"

Mustang kept his glare up for three seconds longer then turned his back on Edward and the Lieutenant and looked out the window. His concern for his subordinate and the young Elric's midnight hunting was still very much at the forefront of his mind, but he knew very well that neither of them would listen to any more orders until he told them all about that which was found.

"Both of the men were found at the back of an alley off of Remington Lane, and the woman was found in an abandoned parking lot off of Main Street."

Edward blanched: Main Street…it was her. I shouldn't have let her go, I could've saved her!

"Did either of you see anything while you were illegally investigating last night?"

"No, sir," Riza replied, shame-faced yet disgruntled at being called out by her superior officer on something she just called Edward out on the very night before. "I went straight home after running into Edward."

"Good," Mustang said, though he was still obviously miffed as he turned to face Ed. Said blonde looked up, hurt intermixed with anger evident in his eyes.

"…I saw a woman walking down Main Street. I stopped her and asked to walk her home but she wouldn't have it…I think that was her, the victim."

Mustang's eyes widened slightly at this news:

"You saw this woman just minutes before she was slaughtered? Did you see or hear anything following her when you approached?"

"No."

"Dammit," Mustang cursed, frustratingly pounding his fist upon his desk. "So damn close!"

Lieutenant Hawkeye frowned at this temperamental expression but knowingly said nothing, for what right did she have to reprimand the Brigadier General, especially after her risky actions from the night before. Instead she looked over at Edward, who had plopped stressfully upon the couch after confirming the identity of the woman's body.

"You said you talked to her?" Riza asked, sitting on the couch across from the distressed boy. He nodded, taking his face out of his palms:

"She said the only reason she dared being out so late was to get medicine for her son, who was sick with a fever at home."

Riza shook her head disgustedly; who would kill a mother? Or rather, who would kill at all, for it takes a truly sick, twisted person to become a murderer…doesn't it? Riza broke her train of thought as Edward sighed shakily:

"I shouldn't have left; then she wouldn't be dead now."

"Edward, there's nothing you could've don—"

"That's not true!" Edward snapped at her. "I could've walked with her regardless of how close her house was!"

"And then you would've been killed, too," Mustang snapped back at the blonde, looking up from his desk. "Idiot. You were unarmed, you're no longer an alchemist—you were easy prey!"

"I could've overpowered him."

"And that's how those men got killed, with that exact mindset!"

"He's right, Edward; you should've at least been more prepared," Riza reasoned. Mustang turned his look of anger upon her:

"Like you're one to talk, you were out there too!"

"At least I had a gun."

"Don't get onto her, Mustang, she's not part of this," Edward growled, earning himself another look of hatred from the General.

"I'll talk to my subordinates however I want to, Elric."

Edward blinked, and then shook his head in disgust. "So this is what murder does; it turns us all into monsters."

Silence; as Edward's dark words sunk in, nobody in the room moved, not a thing stirred. Mustang slowly sank back down into his chair. Riza refused to look the Brigadier General in the eye. Edward leaned back on the couch, covering his eyes with his arm, the last look—the last smile—that the woman offered him last night echoing throughout his exhausted mind. His chest constricted as he came to the realization that that was in fact the very last smile the world would see from her face…and it was wasted upon who should've been her savior, not the last soul to let her down.

"I'm sorry, Riza."

Lieutenant Hawkeye lifted her head in slight surprise at the sound of her first name, rather than 'Lieutenant,' which is what the General would always call her whenever on the job.

"That was…a highly uncalled for abuse of power," he said, swallowing. "You were just trying to do your job, trying to protect the people."

"That's all you're trying to do, too," Hawkeye pointed out to her humbled superior officer. "I appreciate your concern. You were completely right to be so upset with me and Edward. We were way out of line."

"But you meant well; I appreciate that."

Mustang looked up and offered his Lieutenant a small smile, which she gratefully returned.

"I'm so sorry, sir!" The three of them heard Fuery begin to wail before he even entered the room. "Breda bumped into me in the hallway and I accidently spilled the tea on the files!"

"They're still legible," Breda said, tossing the still-damp files onto the Brigadier General's desk. "And we can have Sheska redo the paperwork once they dry."

"Nah, she has enough work left to do," Mustang said, carefully lifting the folder of the top file so as to not rip its fragile, wet pages. "I'll make Elric do it later."

To everyone's surprise, Edward did not have a single snide remark to say in response to Mustang. Riza looked back at him with pity, knowing that despite all that she has said he is still fully blaming himself for that woman's death…

…`c.n.`…

Ed capped his fountain pen; "there; done," he announced, throwing the last, newly-repaired file onto Mustang's desk. He glanced at it and grunted in approval, still hard at work at a full summary of the murders so far. Ed read the report over the General's shoulder, noting that Mustang has classified the killings as both intentional and situational for some odd reason. Other than the fact that all of the victims were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, the young Elric couldn't possibly imagine that any of the killings were not planned out beforehand. Otherwise the military would've caught the killer a long time ago; the only reason the case was still open was because the criminal was so good at covering up his trail.

"Go home, Edward."

Ed blinked at Mustang.

"Huh? Are you sure? Usually you always have something lined up…"

Mustang shook his head, glancing up at the grandfather clock in the far right corner of the room before him; just as his dark eyes met it, it tolled nine o'clock.

"There's nothing left for you to do here; the Lieutenant's already gone, as are most of the other subordinates. I'll file this myself so that you can get some sleep; I know you need some."

Edward didn't agree or disagree with this statement, knowing that it would be pointless to argue. He also knew, however, that he was doing no searching of the streets tonight, or else face an even worse wrath the following morn. Mustang turned at looked at Ed, offering him a sad smile.

"Hopefully Alphonse will write back soon. That'll make you feel better."

Ed narrowed his eyes at the General's tone.

"Don't treat me like a kid, Mustang."

"There he is! I knew the smart-ass shrimp was still in there!"

"Don't call me shrimp, you ass! I'm almost as tall as you, you know!"

Mustang yawned, shrugging the rant off. Edward shook his head, then took all of the files from the desk top.

"I'll take these to the file room on my way out; what time do I need to be in tomorrow?"

"Sleep in," was Mustang's reply. "Just get out of here already."

"All right, all right," Ed muttered annoyed. Even though he would never admit it to the cocky-ass, he was secretly grateful for the early release.

"Ah, Mr. Elric?"

Ed looked up from the filing cabinet he was hunched over; in the doorway was the secretary from the front desk of HQ. He held up one finger and stuffed the files in quickly so as to keep from leaving her hanging.

"Yes?" he finally said as he slammed the door shut. He looked expectantly at her, thinking that maybe she had a letter to give to her, a letter from Alphonse.

"I have a note, here," she said as she handed him a neatly folded sheet of copy paper. "It's from the Lieutenant General."

"Hawkeye?"

She nodded, moving out of the doorway so he could exit the file room. Ed opened it curiously and read the short note within:

If you have the time to do so, meet me at my apartment after you get off.

-Riza

Ed re-read the note, frowning slightly in confusion. What could she want? Maybe it was to nag on him again, about how no matter what he thinks and no matter whatever happened that night, it was in no way his fault that the woman was dead. There's no point to her saying all that, though, and she knows that, he thought, only making himself more confused at the message. Ed shook his head, and then turned back to the secretary.

"That's for getting this to me; have a good evening."

She smiled and nodded as he walked out of Central Headquarters and into the night. His silhouette moved as fluidly as black water whilst he walked under several sets of streetlamps on the road to Lieutenant Hawkeye's home, enhancing the menacing appearance of the murderer's avenue. He was grateful for the fact that he needn't pass by the any of the cursed alleys that bore a crime scene, though the amount of bloodless alleys in town was dwindling by the day…or possibly even by the hour, depending on where the killer was right now. Danger could currently be all around him, and he just couldn't see it. He would be the perfect victim; unsuspecting, unarmed, out of practice with fighting and no longer containing the supreme alchemic abilities he used to bear with pride.

He used to be the hunter; he was now the prey.

Hawkeye's apartment complex actually was not very far from Ed's hotel; it was about a block and a half away in distance, unlike the distance from HQ, which was roughly two and a half miles. Ed hopped out of the cab and walked briskly through the gates and upstairs to her front door, his interest in what the note was about nearly overflowing as he waited impatiently for the Lieutenant to come to the door.

"Good, you came," she said as a greeting once she finally opened the door. "I already have some tea made if you'd like some; sit down."

"Thanks."

Ed took a steaming mug from Hawkeye's hands and blew at it as she went to sit down across from him, her own mug already seated in front of her.

"I'm surprised Mustang let you and I out so early," Ed commented, sipping from his tea. Riza nodded once:

"He felt pretty bad for blowing up at us, he told me so right before I left…" she sighed, wrapping her hands around her mug.

"This case really does bring out the worst in all of us, just like you said. You were completely right."

Ed did not really know how to respond to that, so instead he went back to drinking his tea. Riza followed suite, then cleared her throat.

"That's not why I asked you to come," she explained, rising from her seat. "I know you, Ed, and I know you are still feeling completely responsible for that woman's death."

He knew it; of course that's what the Lieutenant General would call him over to her house for. Just following up on her dear Superior's orders, of course. There was nothing Ed could do but to sigh and nod in admittance.

_Click_!

Ed looked up and was surprised to find Riza holding a handgun in her grasp. He continued to stare at the weapon as she walked back to the table, first tossing a package of extra bullets onto the tabletop and then setting the pistol down as well.

"…And I also know that you don't give a damn about what Mustang said; you plan on going back out there anyway, don't you?"

Ed nodded, fiery determination igniting his pupils.

"Someone has to hurry up and find that bastard before someone else gets killed…someone who has somebody at home who needs them."

"Killing that man is not going to bring her back, Edward," the Lieutenant said softly. The ex-alchemist sighed, shaking his head slightly.

"I know that. But at least this will stop anyone else from being slaughtered."

Riza nodded once, then pushed the handgun towards the boy, who obviously made no move to go for it, but rather looked at it with slight distaste.

"If you're going to patrol the streets you have to be armed," Riza explained. "And I don't mean with a knife; you try going after that murderer with that weapon and he'll laugh in your face. I know you hate guns, Ed…but you have to use them now. You're no longer an alchemist; your sole source of defense is gone."

He knew she was completely right, but he could not help thinking back to how a gun almost made Winry lose her innocence, for she nearly killed Scar with one of those weapons. That memory still tormented him to this day, even though it was so far in a past darker than he'd care to remiscince upon. So, after swallowing the bile that had gathered up in the back of his throat, Ed obeyed Riza and took the gun and the extra bullets into his possession.

…`c.n.`…

_You can't do anything so reckless anymore, Riza. It just wouldn't be the same here without you…I can't stand the thought of you leaving me forever. You almost did once before; never again. __Never__._

Riza blinked herself awake, and then exhaled as she sat up in her bed. The previous conversation she with the Brigadier General earlier that day right before she left HQ still rang in her head, like a haunted melody that one wishes to forget more than anything but knows that it'll never let their soul be. No matter what his voice won't ever escape her memory. She will be forever tormented by this, this moment in which the superior officer she adored reprimanded her in the worst way possible, by hinting at what could've been, what he could've lost…or worse, what his heart would've lost.

_Ugh_…she thought exhaustedly. Why were her thoughts so jumbled and making her chest hurt? Other than the fact that they were over Mustang, was there something underlying them that made this more of an omen than a warning? She thought back to the gun she had loaned Ed; did she make a mistake by supporting his recklessness? Or was she trying to investigate vicariously through him? Was that act of stupidity able to be likened to giving a young teen a condom, just in case, even though you'd prefer to push abstinence? Was she a walking oxymoron in that sense?

Now her chest really hurt; it was difficult for her to keep up her generally cool nature up at Central Command each and every day, especially when she was so filled with this concern. Ever since the Promised Day she found herself being more and more watchful over Roy, making sure that there was no way he'd ever leave her; just as he told her seven hours before, she can't stand the thought of him leaving her forever, either. It would kill her…literally and figuratively.

Black Hayate looked back at her from his post at the end of her bed, a question mark evident within his coal-black eyes. Riza huffed as she rose from the bed, crossing the room soundlessly, stopping right in front of the window…wondering if Edward was out there right at that very moment, doing what she felt she should be doing at that very moment at well. After all, that was what she truly believed she was put on the planet to do, to protect the ones she loved from the evils of a cursed world…

…`c.n.`…

[the following night]

_DONG…DONG…DONG…_

Edward didn't even bother to glance up at the clock tower; it was three am, he knew by the number of tolls the shadowed tower let up into the thick night air. He had officially been out for four hours, a new record for him. He could feel his fatigue from the lack of sleep interfering with his alertness tonight, however, the grip he had on his pistol wavering slightly as he yawned hugely. Tonight marked precisely a fortnight since he first returned to Central, since he first got involved with the murders.

Suddenly Ed froze midstep, his breathing stopped in order to him to listen. He swore he heard footsteps coming from behind him; however he saw nothing upon turning around. With golden eyes narrowed he searched down the boulevard, glancing warily at the darkness emitting from the alleyways in front of him…

A shadow moved.

Ed shot after it, turning swiftly into the first alley, blinking so as to rapidly adjust to the black. Once he could see, the first image to reveal itself to him was ghostly pallid looks of a man's face…a man with dark red eyes…

"…You," Ed hissed, cocking his pistol at the killer, swallowing any fear he had down immediately. _This has officially become a matter of life or death._

"Me, yes," the man spoke in a deep, raspy voice, his 's' drawn out half a beat longer than a normal person's. "And you are the foolish human who has dared to 'track' me…you idiot."

"Shut the hell up and show yourself, you bastard!" Ed exclaimed, his voice shaking only slightly…but what did the man mean by calling him a human, as if he was not one…?

"Are you quite sure you want me to do that?" the creature spoke softly, its eyes sparking creepily.

"_Stop fucking around_!"

"_You_ are the one who is fucking around," the criminal retorted. "Get out of here—out of Central—_now_, if you want to avoid a hellish fate!"

"You're not threatening," Edward snarled in response. "I've _seen_ Hell before, I've _been there_; everything else here pales in comparison. Show yourself or get shot, dammit; your choice!"

The man's illuminated teeth shown in the dim light as his chapped lips curled into a hideous smile.

"Shoot."

Edward's blood boiled and his eyes narrowed in unadulterated hatred as his finger stiffened around the trigger, the gun in his hands ravenous for the kill…

BANG!

…the blonde straightened back up from the recoil. He held his trigger hand up to his face and could see a bit of skin that got peeled back on his thumb, and he ripped it off quickly, exposing a tiny pinprick of blood in its place. _Lieutenant Hawkeye probably has a bunch of callouses on her fingers from handling all these guns, _Ed thought as he looked distastefully back at the weapon. When he lifted his head back up to the darkness the red eyes were gone. He blinked, and then smirked to himself, thinking that the damned gun was a good idea after all. He did not walk away just yet however; there was something ominous in the still night air, he could feel it. The murderer could still be alive; Ed could have missed. He was aiming at pitch-black shadows after all; he couldn't see the asshole's full body. There was no way for Ed to tell if he's dead or not without walking into the abyss himself, to find the body, for he could not hear it crumple down onto the ground through the ringing in his ears from the gunshot.

The former state alchemist took a deep breath, gripping the gun tightly, and took a step towards the shadows. A sharp sound of metal striking against concrete could be heard suddenly, and Ed froze as his bullet rolled up to his boot. His brow furrowed in flabbergasted confusion:

"What—?"

A clawed hand promptly shot out and grabbed Edward, dragging him with it back into the dark. Ed struggled but found that the man had an iron grip, one that he could not manage to get out of. As his eyes re-adjusted to an even darker surrounding Ed could see that though the killer was still breathing and very mobile and overall acted virtually unscathed, he did not miss his shot. There was in fact a gaping hole in the man's chest, and Ed could see pieces of skin and clothing clotted around the obviously tampered-with bullet wound.

"How are you still alive?" asked the horrified ex-alchemist. The criminal ignored the outburst and instead brought his face closer to Ed's.

"I told you to get away while you still could."

Ed brought the gun back into his hands and aimed, this time for the predator's face, who laughed at the motion.

"You really think that is going to work?"

Ed reconsidered, then shrugged; on a whim he swung his automail leg up and kicked the man square in the jaw, making jump back and rip up the front of Ed's shirt in the process of relinquishing his grip on the boy. Ed took this moment's chance to flee out of reach and to aim as precisely as possible. The killer quickly reset his jaw with an audible _crack!_ and looked up just in time to receive a bullet to the neck.

_Goddammit,_ Ed thought. _My hand was shaking—how the hell could I miss his fucking __face_? Once again the bullet was spat back at him, and the man—no, _monster_—stood tall before Edward. He made a move to charge at the blonde but paused curiously when Ed tossed the gun to the ground and clapped his hands together threateningly. A moment of stunned silence followed as the monster watched Edward, then—

"Sorry," said Ed with a shake of his head. He unclasped his hands and charged at the man as he was still paused and managed to land another hit at his jaw with his fist. "Old habits die hard!"

He went in for another hit, but this time the beast was ready; his clawed hand closed around Ed's fist, and he flipped the boy off his feet and flat on his face with one easy, fluid motion. He smirked with dark satisfaction as Ed quickly sat back up, blood dripping from his nose. He sniffed, slurping some of the blood back up into his nostrils as he looked at his opponent with a different light, the same light he saw the Homunculi with. _Maybe that's what he is, a Homunculus,_ Ed thought, but then pushed the idea away, for his wounds were not regenerating. They definitely were not slowing him down in the slightest, but they were still very evidently existent nonetheless. _How am I supposed to beat someone who can't die?_

"Given up yet?" the creature hissed.

"_Never_," Ed growled in brief response right before he went in for another hit. The monster did not feel like humoring the idiot boy anymore though; he grabbed Ed's head in his palm and threw it roughly in a downwards direction. In an effort to keep from cracking his skull on the hard concrete Ed put his hands out, only to severely bruise his palms in the process. He pushed back up only to be knocked back down from behind, the man kicking in his kneecaps this time, bringing the blonde to his knees. He laughed as he kicked Ed's chest, forcing him flat on his back. Ed was not one to be easily beaten, however, when he tried to hurry up and rise again, the creature didn't give him the chance and stepped onto his arms, relishing in the simultaneous cracks that sounded when his full weight was applied onto the smaller boy.

He made sickeningly easy work of defeating someone who had been trained to fight criminals.

"Pray while you still can."

"Shut the hell up," Ed coughed, as if he wasn't being pinned down by the very thing he sought to kill, as if he was still in the fight with two fractured arms, broken ribs and bruised knees.

The beast had enough of the stupid child's big mouth; he cut off all talking with one last hard kick to the face, knocking the ex-alchemist out cold at last. He then stepped off of his crippled body, thinking about what exactly to do with it. He could feed from him, of course, and rid the world of this annoying existence; it would almost be an _admirable_ thing to do, actually, which made him laugh darkly. Yes, he could drain all of Edward Elric's blood and end his life forever…however, he could also have some fun with this. Here in this very alley he had the opportunity to really fuck with this damned city, to leave a sort of legacy behind when he finally left. He could maintain the madness in a sense by doing this—he would actually be increasing the madness exponentially. He liked the sounds of that, of sending the stupid humans into a paranoid frenzy. His indecisiveness only grew as a bit of blood appeared at the corner of Ed's unconscious mouth and began to drip down from his lips…what to do, what to do…

…`c.n.`…

"Lieutenant, General."

"Morning, Fuery," Riza greeted the Sargent, who promptly walked up to her, handing her both a mug of coffee and an envelope. "Thanks," she said, looking curiously at the envelope for a moment before finally setting it on Mustang's desk. Mustang looked up from the file he was reading at his Lieutenant.

"Is it mine?"

"I don't know, Fuery just handed it to me."

She looked over her shoulder:

"Who gave the letter to you again?"

"Oh, Sheena from the front desk stopped me as I walked out of the cafeteria and told me to give it to you or Mustang. I think she said it's for Edward."

"Edward?" Mustang inquired. "Who gave him permission to have mail sent to him here at HQ?"

Riza rolled her eyes as he nosily read the return address; his eyes widened in surprise.

"It's the response from Alphonse he's been waiting for."

And then something hit the Brigadier General; it was the morning but it was late morning. Sure enough, when he looked up at the clock in the far corner of the room, it read ten o'clock. Edward Elric was usually at HQ by eight-thirty or nine. He looked back at his Lieutenant and Fuery.

"…Where _is_ Edward?"

_I feel the hands of fate, they're suffocating…_

…`c.n.`…


	5. Chapter 4

A/N: POOR EDWARD! *clears throat* ok, I'm done. Hope y'all enjoy! I understand it may perhaps be kind of lacking, but I ran out of time b/c I was posting such a huge "Entwined Sorcery" chapter. ^_^" BUT, hopefully the end part will make up for it (mweeheehee...), and I swear next month's update will be more action-y, lol. :))

Also, I have been _waiting_ for a good chapter to use this song reference on! Just saying. 3

'K, NOW I'm done. :P

all things Fullmetal Alchemist (c) Hiromu Arakawa

**Carpe Noctem...Seize the Night**

**Chapter Four: Alphonse's Return**

"_No will to wake for this morn_

_To see another black rose born_

_Deathbed is slowly covered with snow…_

_Angels, they fell first but I'm still here_

_Alone as they are drawing near_

_In heaven my masterpiece will finally be sung…"_

-"End Of All Hope" by Nightwish

…`c.n.`…

_Dear Ed,_

_You're back in Central? That's great! I definitely would like to meet up with you there; we've just about finished up here in Xing so we should be there in about a week or even sooner, maybe. I can't wait to see you, brother! You're right; it really has been too long. I'm not used to being away from you for so long, and it was weird, travelling without you._

_I see you haven't changed any since you've turned eighteen, however. It seems like you're still getting into trouble wherever you go, Ed. How did you get involved in such an awful case anyway? You're not an alchemist anymore, you know. You have to stop acting on impulse so much since you're no longer the lethal weapon you used to be. I'm not saying you're weak, though; don't think that (because I know you are)! I'm just saying, this murderer seems really dangerous. Please don't get yourself killed before I get there, Ed. I can also tell that you hate Mustang as much as ever. This makes me a little bit confused as to why you took up the case in the first place, but whatever. No one can control your actions; I just hope that we can be of some sort of help to this gruesome cause. It's never a good thing when lives are lost. _

_I know this letter is kind of brief, but I figure we'll have plenty of time to catch up once I arrive in Central—after you completely fill me in on this murder mystery, of course._

_See you soon, Nii-san!_

_Al._

Mustang shook his head, his frown deepening as he looked up at his Lieutenant, who was on the phone with Detective Grahnger. He had gone ahead and opened Al's letter once the day it was delivered, but he still could not bring himself to reply in Edward's stead. Six days had passed since they last heard from Edward Elric, and in all honesty, nobody was looking for a live person anymore. But not even his body had been recovered yet, which confused everybody at Central Command. It wasn't like the murderer to hide his victims, they were usually found out in the open, displayed like a trophy or something else to be pride fully displaying. This was the strangest thing given the nature of the case.

Riza guiltily admitted on the second day of Ed's disappearance that she aided in his secret nightly investigations. Mustang's disparagement towards his second-in-command's actions was very evident, but he refrained from reacting as violently as he did before in order to keep his wits about him. After all, how awful would it be for Alphonse to come into town and be told that his brother was most likely killed, but they don't know for sure yet because they have yet to find his body? That's not only an agonizing thing for the youngest Elric to have to be told, but also a great embarrassment to the military to have to break that sort of news at all. It's bad enough that they've yet to find the murderous bastard in the first place, but to lose a member of the team like that? Inexcusable.

They had found the scene of attack at least; it was swept for fingerprints and samples from numerous bloodstains upon the concrete ground were taken up to the lab. There was one very prominent puddle-like stain, Grahnger noted, that had a significantly large smear mark protruding from it, suggesting that whoever was lying in that pool of blood managed to get away from the scene of the crime. There were no other blood trails that they could find from the alleyway, though, unfortunately meaning that there was practically no way to track Ed from the place of his possible death. There weren't any boot prints made by the blood either, which was unfortunate since that could've given them a huge clue as to whether Ed was there or not. The existence of bloodstains period was a bad sign, for the number one thing about this murderer was that he never left behind any evidence. So what this meant to Grahnger was either a) Edward had put up a serious fight against the murderer (which would be very good to the military if he had managed to spill any of the criminal's blood, for they'd find it and be able to track down who it was by that), or b) the killer was in an unusually macabre mood and decided to make Ed suffer twice as much as his other victims. This was a viable reason only if the man knew of Ed's military connections, for why would he treat this victim any differently without that knowledge?

The only sigh of relief in this predicament is that so far there have not been any other victims. Ed's disappearance marked the start of a stalemate in that sense…but how long the sigh of relief would last was the question. Whatever happened between Edward and the murderer must have had something to do with this, or so Mustang thought.

Armstrong walked into the room:

"Detective Grahnger is on line two, General."

Mustang promptly picked up the phone without thanking the Major:

"This is Mustang."

"I've just received the lab reports," the detective began immediately. "I'll fax them over to you as soon as I get to the office, but you won't believe what you read."

Mustang furrowed his brow; what was _that_ supposed to mean?

"Why, what did it show?"

"Well…" Grahnger cleared his throat, "The first sample wasn't weird in any way, and the tests showed that the blood was in fact Elric's."

The General's face paled slightly, causing his subordinates to look back at him with great curiosity. He spun around in his chair so as to face out of the windows and away from their prying eyes. "Go on."

"The other sample got a bit complicated. There was some of Ed's blood mixed into it, which made it particularly difficult to assess, but…the blood found belonged to someone who is already dead according to the lab; one of the previous victims, Marie Desmond."

"_What_? How is that even possible?"

"This is hard for me to say, seeing as I'm a detective and all, but…I've no idea how her blood got there."

"That makes no sense…We saw her body in the morgue just the other day!"

"I know. But General, I feel like we're missing a huge part of the puzzle here."

Mustang mentally facepalmed:

"You don't say!"

"No need to get snippy here, I'm serious. Something about this case gives me a horrible feeling deep down in my gut."

"It's doing that to all of us, Grahnger. Even Ed knew there was something more to this killer than meets the eye."

"Which is probably why he got killed."

Mustang's throat ran dry, knowing he was right but unable to fully accept it. It was so hard to imagine the unstoppable Fullmetal Alchemist being killed so easily, so quickly…but that was just it, was it not? The fact that Ed was no longer an alchemist sent him into a downward spiral that could end no other way than in certain death. He should've never gotten involved in the case in the first place. Nobody bothered to stop him, however, so everyone at HQ was responsible for the young man's death. Everyone there was going to have to break it to Al, with or without his brother's body being found.

…`c.n.`…

_The Gate did not greet him in the great beyond. No white, ghost-like figure focused its invisible sneer upon his soul's face._

_God wasn't there; if He was there He was as invisible as Truth's sneer._

_Satan could've been present. He wouldn't have known due to the misplaced shadows._

_His mother was not there, either, and nor was his father. Winry's parents were nowhere to be seen. Hughes' smile was absent from the scene, or rather, lack thereof._

_Nothing was to be seen._

_All that was to be was darkness. Nothingness. He was not completely certain that even he himself was there amongst the black..._

…`c.n.`…

"Alphonse Elric!"

Al nearly dropped his suitcase in surprise at the booming voice behind him. Though he knew its master very well, he had forgotten how shocking the man was and how he always seemed to just appear out of nowhere, no matter his size. Al grinned up at the state alchemist:

"Morning, Major Armstrong! Long time no see!"

"Indeed, it has been," the muscular replied, his mustache twitching within his smile of greeting. "And where are your travelling companions?"

"We agreed to split up once arriving here," Al explained. "They had a few people they wanted to catch up with, too."

"Ah."

"Mhmm. So where's Ed? Up at HQ working probably, huh?"

Armstrong did not answer the younger Elric at first, mulling over how exactly to explain the entire situation to Al, whose smile diminished slightly in brightness upon the look on the Major's face.

"…He is alright, isn't he?"

Armstrong sighed:

"I don't think so, Alphonse. Perhaps General Mustang could better explain the situation to you than I can, though…"

He gestured to the car he brought with him to the train station, and Alphonse silently followed him, gripping tightly onto his suitcase.

Everyone on the first floor of Central Command was extremely happy to see Al, excitedly greeting him and saying how much he had been missed. As he and Armstrong went up first one floor and then another, though, the demeanor of the building quickly fell; even optimistic Sargent Fury could only offer Alphonse a weak smile when he hurriedly passed him in the hallway outside of the Brigadier General's room. _Is this what this serial killer has done to the military,_ he thought mournfully. _They all look so beaten, so worn-out…is that how I'll look by the time this is all over?_

"Welcome back, Alphonse," greeted Lieutenant Hawkeye as she opened the door for the youngest Elric, who smiled back at her but entered the large office with caution. Why he was cautious he did not know, though, for it was not as if he was entering the former Fuhrer Bradley's office. No, Mustang is an ally of his; he knew that if it weren't for his help he would have never gotten his body back. But just the thought of the fact that this ally was going to break some bad news of his brother to him made him want to avoid him at all costs.

"How was Xing, Alphonse?"

Al nodded as he sat upon one of the sofas in front of Mustang's desk.

"It was great; I did tons of research on Reninjitsu, and learned a lot about chimeras as well. I think there may actually be a way to restore Jerso and Zampano to they're human forms, though I'm not sure if they still want to. Apparently being a chimera can come in handy."

"Heh," was all Mustang could think of to reply. He was distracted; _how do I say it, how do I say it, he's going to lose it, I can't do this to him, damn you Ed! I hope you go to Hell for putting me and your brother through this!_

"So are you going to tell me what happened to Ed or not, General?"

Mustang closed his eyes:

"You told him, Major?"

"I did not, sir," Armstrong replied slightly defensively. "I merely said that there was something wrong but you could explain it better."

"Gee, thanks for the support…"

Mustang sighed, then stood up from his desk:

"…I'm sorry Al, but we have reason to believe that…that Edward may be dead."

Alphonse furrowed his brow, feeling his heart beginning to crush but still hesitant due to Mustangs weird choice of words.

"What do you mean by 'reason to believe.'"

"I mean that he's missing, but at the last crime scene we've investigated we found significant traces of his split blood all over it. If he is alive, he won't be for much longer judging by how much injury he's had to handle."

"…So the murderer got to him."

Mustang looked up at Hawkeye, whose eyes were down casted, her bangs shadowing over them.

"We don't know. Obviously it's likely that's the case, but the thing is all of the past murders didn't involve any blood-spilling, which means that Ed had to have put up some kind of fight."

To his surprise Al smiled.

"That's Ed, never going down without a fight. Can you show me where you found his blood?"

At this Hawkeye looked over at him, her eyes narrowed. Mustang's reaction was similar to this.

"Why? He's nowhere around there, we've scoured the place countless times, he's nowhere to be found, Al."

"Yeah, I get that," Al responded, rising from the couch and looking Mustang in the eye. "But I also get something that you haven't grasped just yet."

Mustang raised an eyebrow: "And what's that?"

"You said they haven't found his body yet, right?"

"Yes."

"Then that means there is still a really good chance that Brother is alive somewhere. After all, a dead body doesn't just crawl away on its own, does it?"

Mustang paused; Al had a good point. Hawkeye shook her head, though, ever the skeptic.

"But Alphonse," she said carefully. "The killer could have dragged him away himself. Just because Ed's no longer at the scene of the crime, that doesn't mean that he's most likely alive."

"But the killer never hid a body before, did he? They were all right there in the same place they had died, right?"

"…Right," Hawkeye admitted. Al nodded:

"Ok, then why would he just randomly decide to move Ed around?"

Neither the General nor the Lieutenant had any sort of remotely intelligent response to Alphonse's very valid point. They had both underestimated the younger Elric brother; they had expected him to be overcome with grief at the thought of his brother possibly being dead, but instead he comes up ever determined to make sure he's alive. All those years at Edward's side must have greatly strengthened him; Alphonse smiled at their silence, turning back to Mustang.

"Ready to go?"

…`c.n.`…

Alphonse felt somewhere deep down inside that Edward was not dead yet. How long he would be still alive he had no clue, but he had a strange feeling that reassured him in a way of Ed's still-beating heart…it was not telepathy, nor was it the fact that they were brothers. It was something deeper, though what exactly defined it Al could not say. Perhaps he simply just knew his brother all too well to be able to believe that he had been defeated at last. Even upon stepping into the crime scene and seeing the burgundy stains and the kicked-up concrete pieces for himself did the young Elric refuse to follow in the military's hopeless footsteps.

They were alone in the alleyway; save for two other soldiers talking in the shadows, bearing files identical of those faxed to General Mustang a few days ago from Detective Grahnger. Upon his initial inquiry Mustang found out that no new evidence had been found since his last visit with the detective—not that he was expecting any other response.

"The bullets we had found here," Riza explained, pointing to one spot close to Al's foot, and upon looking down he spotted a chalk-lined circular mark symbolizing the bullet… "And there," she finished, pointing to a similarly marked spot next to a particularly large bloodstain. Alphonse gulped, approaching the dried blood, as if Ed's limp body were still lying before him in the puddle.

"They must've fought some," Riza stated, nodding over at the messed-up concrete just past the puddle, "unless Ed fired the gun I had lent him and missed, hitting the ground rather than the killer."

"You lent Brother one of your guns?"

"Yes," Riza said. "We found it and sent it in for swabbing, but nothing was found other than Ed's fingerprints. No one else had grabbed it away from him; he must've just dropped it on his own."

"And the bullets you found; you're certain they're from your gun?"

"Yes. They did tests on those back in the lab as well."

"So the killer didn't have a gun…either that or he didn't fire it."

"It's more likely that he didn't have one at all; shooting people isn't his style."

Mustang approached them, his face exhausted-looking as he looked at the giant bloodstain for the umpteenth time in the past week. _How much of that belongs to Elric and how much to Marie Desmond…and how did hers get there in the first place?_ He had briefed Al on that weird news on the way to the crime scene, but the young Elric also drew up a blank. Mustang knew that was most likely to happen, though; after all the kid was most focused on finding his brother than solving an unrelated mystery for them. Once Ed was found—dead or alive—they all can return to finding and arresting the killer. Mustang, though he was not about to admit it in front of Alphonse, kind of hoped that whenever they find Ed's body they will also find out some sort of huge clue leading to finding the killer's identity.

"How many do you have out searching for him, General?"

Mustang turned and faced Al.

"What, searching for Ed?"

"Yes."

Mustang glanced at Hawkeye, then sighed:

"We only have one small group focusing on him as of right now," Mustang admitted. "We had larger search parties out earlier in the week, when we felt that there was still a good chance of him being alive, but now we've slowed down considerably."

"We're trying to focus on the main problem," Riza explained gently, able to see past Alphonse's façade; the blonde was not pleased to hear of this neglect towards his brother.

"Would it be alright if I put together a search party of my own on top of the military's group out there already?" he asked, still visibly disappointed in Mustang.

"Of course," Mustang said, nodding firmly. "That's a good idea, we need to find him, dead or alive; the only thing worse than a death toll is an amber alert. Especially with a serial killer on the loose."

"I don't like my brother being referred to as an inconvenience, General—"

"Look, I've got a lot to deal with right now, Alphonse, don't test me."

"Sir!" Hawkeye said in protest, causing the Brigadier General to turn his expression sharply in her direction. She lowered her voice down from her louder tone:

"He's just found out that his brother's missing," she growled, "at least try to be sympathetic."

"I don't have time to sympathize," Mustang snapped. "I've got work to do."

Riza sighed heavily as she watched her superior officer trudge frustratingly away from the crime scene, then turned to face Alphonse.

"…I'm in. I'll help you find Edward, even if he won't."

Alphonse glanced over her shoulder at Mustang.

"Won't you get in trouble?"

"Not if we search at night."

…`c.n.`…

…_**dusk is over…night has fallen…time to reap what has been sown…**_

The beast rose slowly, shaking feverishly as dead adrenaline kicked through his rotting veins and arteries, his lips chapped and dirt-smudged. The bags underneath his crimson eyes were darker than shadow, enhancing his fearsome appearance. The city in the distance looked beyond enticing to his ravenous self.

…_**time to reap all who are destined to die.**_

…`c.n.`…

"I think I heard something over here!" Alphonse shouted, taking off before Riza, Armstrong and the others in the search group could see where he was running to. In his search party Al managed to round up most of Mustang's subordinates, which made Al feel extra grateful due to the fact that he knew how much overtime they've had to do recently with all of the murders. That they would spend their evening's searching for his brother meant a lot to him, truly it did.

"Alphonse, wait up, don't go too far by yourself!" Riza called after him, the beam from her flashlight bouncing along as she ran.

"Young Alphonse, slow down!" Armstrong's booming voice echoed behind the Lieutenant's. Suddenly they all stopped at the same time. They were at the back of a rather old building, consumed by darkness, without a streetlamp in sight. Alphonse's eyes were widened in horror.

"Oh my god…"

He took a shaky step forward and visibly cringed when his shoe made a small splashing sound. Blood, and lots of it pooled across the pavement, making Fuery gag as the rest of the group caught sight of what made the boy flinch. The Lieutenant General could literally feel her heart freeze at the horror she witnessed. Not just one more victim lay before them…but four.

"Oh my god…" Hawkeye whispered Al's words, a ghostly echo made even more haunting at the sound of her wet footsteps. She shined her light down upon the nearest body; it barely even looked human. The woman's face was ripped at and bitten so roughly that the ghastly white of her skull beneath showed through, her eyes a sickly blood-stained white in color. Her neck bone could also be seen sticking through the skin of her throat, her veins entangled around the mauled flesh. Her bosom was bloody and horribly disfigured, bearing large, vehement bites across, and upon focusing into the middle of her chest Hawkeye could see that her sternum had not only been ripped into but shattered completely through, her heart hanging loosely out of the gaping, bloody hole. The blood from the once-pulsating organ was sucked out so thoroughly that it was no longer a deep red in color, but rather a palled, sickening shade of deathly pink.

All of the other victims fared the same.

"W-what the hell _happened here_?" Hawkeye spoke in revulsion. She turned away, focusing her eyes on Armstrong rather than the deceased that lay before her. "This can't be the same killer, can it?"

"Unless he has changed his tactics," Armstrong said darkly, also shutting his eyes from the scene. Alphonse looked as though he could vomit. Never before had he witnessed such a disgusting bloodbath, and all he wanted to do was to run away as fast as he could. But he could not do so—not yet, at least—for something had to be done first. After glancing once more at the woman next to Hawkeye, he walked over to where the rest of the victims were piled next to the building's wall. The first one he saw was another woman, with her once sky-blue eyes gouged out and still hanging, her once-bloody eye sockets licked clean. Al roughly gulped down the vomit in his throat and gingerly—as if she could still feel pain—lifted and moved her macabre body out of the way so that he could get a better look at the victims below her. When he turned back he saw yet another woman, younger than the other two, and a guy about his age or older…or at least that's what he guessed by what he could tell from the corpse. His arms and legs were stuck out at odd angles, as if they had been broken in multiple places in multiple ways, and his head was twisted completely backwards, his neck an equally bloody mess as the others were. Al grabbed onto the bloody chin and turned the boy's head to the side so he could see his eyes color; they were a dead brown.

"…it's not Ed," he spoke to the group, his voice barely a whisper, but they could understand him nonetheless.

"That's a good thing, though, right?" Breda piped up. Al offered him a weak smile.

"Yeah, I guess you're right…but at the same time, if the killer is switching to multiple murders a night...it's even more dangerous for Ed to be lost."

"We'll find him, Al," Falman said, returning Al's weak smile. He made sure not to add on 'dead or alive,' though he knew that everyone else there was thinking those very words. Heck, they knew Al knew they all were certain Edward was dead, which was true. Al did not think like they did though; he refused to give up hope. Ed never gave up hope when they reached a bump in the road to restoring their bodies; he was not about to give up so easily either. What kind of brother would that make him? Ed was most likely out there, possibly on the verge of death but definitely not dead yet. He has not given up yet, and neither will Alphonse.

"We should call it a night," Hawkeye said gently, walking up to him through the slush of blood and dismembered bodies.

"It's too dangerous right now to continue searching, Alphonse," Armstrong agreed, though he dared not walk through the blood himself. His poor, kind heart was already under enough stress at the macabre sight. "And tomorrow will be a long day for us all."

Hawkeye cringed.

"Roy's not going to be very happy…"

…`c.n.`…

_**More…more... MORE…**_

It was a thirst unlike any he's ever known, a lust of the flesh and the warm red liquid it bore. The taste, the wonderful taste still lingered upon his lips, no longer chapped but coated in a crimson, metallic-tasting demonic lipstick. To drink was orgasmic; to momentarily sate was to dive into a warm bath; to feel a victim's life pass straight through his pallid, clawed fingers, shaking with ecstasy, was unlike anything the living could ever be blessed with. The vampiric curse was a gift, something far greater to behold than redemption.

He was one with the night, his long hair loose and flying as he ran, the tips of his bangs dipping delicately into his victim's blood as he bent over their exsanguinating bodies, the sheer want for more hitting him as he licked the once yellow-blonde strands thirstily. His fangs, his body's newest addition on top of the newly rotting, damned flesh, were relentless, were his greatest ally in the hunt. His blood-soaked boots made haunted footprints upon the concrete as he sprinted beneath streetlamps, heading straight for the illuminated clock tower at the center of the city. Right before he ran right up into its streaming light, he took a sharp turn into an umbrageous alleyway.

The beast then clambered up the wall at the back of the alley and leapt off of it, relishing in the darkness of his lair. He leaned up against the bricks, closing his eyes as he exhaled, his distended stomach sloshing with blood.

He opened his eyes, feeling them burn and slowly but surely return from scarlet to gold.

_Angels, they fell first but I'm still here…_

…`c.n.`…


	6. Chapter 5

A/N: Yeah, the last chapter was kinda cliffy. :P This one ain't much better in terms of leaving ya hanging, though, but I defs do this on purpose in order to keep readers. XD I know, I'm horrible, and in more ways than one. I have such a hard time keeping up with this story! I'm definitely VERY late on this chapter's posting and I'm so sorry!

Also, I guess I wanna apologize (not really, actually :P but I suppose ya'll do deserve some kind of warning XD) ahead of time on the intense OOC-ness express by the former Fullmetal Alchemist in this chappy, but you must understand, he's…well, you'll find out. :)

Enjoy!

all things Fullmetal Alchemist (c) Hiromu Arakawa

Carpe Noctem...Seize the Night

Chapter Five: Possessed

"_Stare into the night;_

_Power beyond containing_

_Are you gonna remain a slave_

_For the rest of your life?_

_Give in to the night…"_

-"The Night" by Disturbed

…`c.n.`…

[nine days before Alphonse arrived in Central]

"Pray while you still can."

"Shut the hell up," Ed coughed, as if he wasn't being pinned down by the very thing he sought to kill, as if he was still in the fight with two fractured arms, broken ribs and bruised knees. Despair flooded his soul as he looked up into the murderer's fierce, red eyes. This was the end, at last; _after all those years being hunt down by Homunculi and fighting off Scar, I'm gonna die…at the hands of some random serial killer. This sucks._

He never thought his death would be this way, him being so weak, defenseless, without the ability to perform alchemy in order to stay alive for Winry, for Granny Pinako, for Alphonse…

_Alphonse. No… Al! Alphonse! I won't die— no—I WON'T LEAVE YOU, BROTHE—!_

The thoughts of his brother were the last things Ed's mind produced before his world caved in on itself and turned pitch black.

…`c.n.`…

It could not have been any longer than half an hour when the pain came. It was a perplexing, unreal, sort of burning sensation that Ed could feel flooding into his veins, arteries, and every last capillary. It came in waves of terror, beginning first with sound, like the pounding of a deep-barreled timpani, growing louder and louder until it consumed all his senses, raping his eardrums from the inside out, ravishing in their weakness as blood began to drip from the orfices. Then it was his sight, already blackened as coal but now being burnt from deep within his temple out. He tried to open the tortured orbs and saw nothing, and then quickly shut them as they began to sear as well. The drumming pulsated into his retina, the veins attaching his eyeballs to his skull crying in protest as the throbbing yanked and tore at their feeble cartilage. Ed cringed into himself, gritting his teeth as he realized that the drumming, sweltering ache that now pierced his gums and his jaw, clenching it shut tight, was actually his heart, being beaten to death by the venom that caused his body-wide hypertension, completely absent from his knowledge. He had no idea what was happening to him, and he would've screamed if he could even feel his vocal chords at all; all motor control nerves had succumbed to the invisible torture.

_I'm in Hell; this is the fire, eating away at every part of my being. God really does exist…he really did have it out for me_.

All thought faded away completely as an intense pressure filled his chest, strained upon his heart harder…harder…harder. With one last, drawn-out, excruciating scream of agony, Ed threw his head back, his hands ripping into his hair as a bloodcurdling scream of pain and horror ripped through his muted vocal chords, yanking forth a wad of blackened blood from his throat…

…`c.n.`…

His heart stopped. The pain stopped. Edward collapsed, shaking violently, fully expecting a second wave of torture to hit…but it never came.

He tore open his eyelids, sticky with his slowly congealing blood, and looked around from where he lay, still wary of any possibly foreboding torment. His sticky, sweat and blood-drenched palms found concrete, his bleeding eyes staring up into a black sky. He turned his head to either side and saw the shadowed sides of buildings standing before him, like hellish guards before the gates of Hell. Only this was not Hell; it was a city at night. There was no fire and brimstone, but sidewalks, streetlamps and buildings.

Ed slowly, carefully got to his feet, as if expecting them to give out on him at any second. The feeling of standing without a beating heart was perplexing, but at that very moment he could not draw forth any moment in which he could remember himself with a functioning heart. Perhaps he was always like this, like a walking corpse. His lungs would not work either; he found this out after trying to breathe in. The feeling was foreign, almost unnatural, like his chest was not supposed to expand like that. Releasing the air from inside his useless lungs was equally as weird, and he decided not to try that again, though there was one small part of his mind that told him he needed to do so. He silenced the thought as he took a couple of wary steps toward the alleyway's exit, his boots making eerie squelching sounds as he walked away from the pool of his own blood.

His mind was nothing but a fog of emptiness; he could not remember if he had a name, could not recall his purpose upon the earth, and knew nothing of his past. All he could remember was the excruciating pain that brought him to this undead state of being.

He idly walked the empty streets, looking for nothing in particular; upon approaching a park, he turned and walked into the grass, his eyes strangely attracted to the change of scenery for some odd reason. A pulling from deep within the recesses of his human form brought him to a sudden halt in the middle of the oasis-like place. He froze in place, feeling vexed upon the hot bubbling within his abdomen. A surge of hot, acidic fluid surged into his esophagus and he lurched forward, ripping open his mouth as he retched up a good half-gallon's worth of reddish-black vomit. He shut his eyes and gagged upon a rather thick, stringy, intestine-like piece of up chugged entrails, exhaling in relief once it was finally detached from his throat in one rough, asphyxiating motion, leaving a congealed, blood-like drool at the corners of his mouth.

Just as he began to get a grip upon his bearings he vomited for a second and then a third time, ridding his body of all human waste along with bits and pieces of his slowly rotting internal organs. The stench of tar-like blood and rot filled his upgraded nostrils, but it did not faze him. On the contrary it sparked up a new kind of sensation: a sort of burning in his throat, now slightly worse for wear due to the acidity of his previous vomiting session. He felt…a thirst overcome his thoughts. A vexing thirst for a certain percentage of what he had just disgorged…blood.

His purpose was finally realized.

Ed lapped at the congealed, grotesque substance lingering at the corners of his mouth, relishing in the satisfying chill the taste of blood sent down his spine. But his deceased body's blood was not fresh enough for his liking. He needed hot, fresh blood; only that would quench his thirst. He inhaled deeply, finding with pleasure that his now-healed nostrils detected fresh meat walking nearby. Upon looking up, he could in fact see a shadowy figure walking in the night, and he felt a twisted, animalistic grin spread across his face as he began to stalk his prey.

_**Perfect,**_ a beast-like voice from within growled ravenously. He almost stopped walking in surprise; did this new voice belong to him? It certainly was mirroring his thoughts quite accurately…however, something felt almost…disembodied about its existence.

No matter. The burning in Edward's throat made the voice more prominent, and it reminded him that he craved blood…

Not that he actually needed any reminder; he was sprinting now, surprisingly light on his feet, making less noise than the breeze softly floating past him as he tackled the blood bag down and happily lost all control. His voracious thirst enhanced his already elongating fangs—_fangs…? _He thought blandly, unconcernedly but at the same time fascinated—and he ripped into the innocent human's jugular with such force that the person had no time to be the slightest bit shocked or scared. After hyperactively slurping down all of the blood he could from the artery, Edward continued to chomp at the body, desperate for more of the sweet, glorious substance.

_**Why is it gone so soon…I want more—NEED more…NOW!**_

The voice grabbed hold of him and, after ripping the head clean off his the already emaciated body, Edward reluctantly left what remained of his meal to rot and began to hunt for more prey, for yet another victim to sate his irresistible thirst…

…`c.n.`…

[back to present time]

"_Have you lost your mind, Lieutenant?_"

Lieutenant Hawkeye was absolutely correct in her statement from the previous eve; Brigadier General Mustang was definitely not pleased to hear about their adventures. Alphonse cringed slightly at the sight of the enraged General but stood his ground, staying by the fact that he wouldn't stop until Edward was found and safe. Hawkeye, on the other hand, was slightly regretting her decision to disobey her superior's orders.

"Neither you nor the Führer offered to help Alphonse; we were the only ones willing to help find Edward," she pointed out for the umpteenth time, refusing to look at the other cowardly subordinates. _They were completely willing to go out on the streets with a killer on the loose, but now they can't face one man? Pathetic…_

"My orders were clear and specific—"

"I understand that, sir. I've already apologized for disobeying them."

Mustang still looked infuriated, but decided on leaving Hawkeye alone for the moment and instead turned towards Alphonse.

"…Well, did you at least find anything?"

Alphonse sighed:

"No, nothing other than the new victims we already told you about."

Mustang's expression darkened at the thought, though Al was not entirely sure whether it did so due to the horror story they were living in or due to the massive amount of paperwork all those dead bodies would equate to.

"This is getting ridiculous," was his unexpected response. Everyone in the room looked at him dumbfounded; of all the adjectives he could have used to describe this serial case he chose one of the most morbidly un-humorous one in the book? Was the General truly so soulless?

"Grahnger and I have been researching that blood—I went down to the lab myself the other day—and still nothing."

Al raised an eyebrow at the alchemist:

"What about the blood requires lab work? You've already found that it belongs to Ed, didn't you?"

"One of the previously deceased victim's blood was found mixed in," Mustang explained, and then interrupted Al's question and continued:

"We still do not know how it's possible, but that's the mystery we're dealing with. So you see why we can't waste any time searching for a victim when we have too many other pieces of this puzzle to find."

Alphonse opened his mouth to indigently yell at Mustang…but stopped himself. No need to fade into crisis mode; no matter what Mustang said to sway him he knew he was going back out there that very evening to search again, with or without a search party.

"…Ok, I've got to go pick up those files from Armstrong. Lieutenant, Alphonse, we've got a meeting with Führer Grumman at three today, so be ready."

This sparked their interest. Were they really in _that_ much trouble?

"Who called for the meeting, you or Grumman?" Hawkeye inquired concernedly. Mustang shrugged:

"Both, I guess. I suggested it and he agreed that we needed to update him on everything going on in the investigation. After all, he has the right to know about what's tearing his city apart."

…`c.n.`…

Three o'clock came too quickly for the small group, for still none of them had any ideas on what to say to the Führer. After all the time they'd had and they still had nothing on the killer, whereas his cursed victims list only grew by each passing day. Even Al, who had only been in the city for a day, was nervous about what Grumman would have to say about the case.

"Enter," came the older man's voice from within the vast office. Only once before had Al stepped into this office, but that was back when the leader of Amestris was a monster. He recalled feeling the same way he did now back then, though he soon realized that his fear was ridiculous. As soon as he saw him Grumman smiled.

"Alphonse Elric, good to see you!"

"I-it's good to see you too, sir," Al said in polite surprise and he shook the leader's hand.

All friendly greetings were quickly ceased as the three of them sat down before Grumman's desk; his friendly smile evaporated and was replaced by a look of pure seriousness.

"Catch me up on what you've been doing as of late, Mustang."

And so he did, and he spared the old man no details; he expressed his concern about Edward's disappearance, told of his and Grahnger's findings in the blood sample and explained about the weirdness within the appearance of the newest victims. Grumman listened closely, making the occasional note but other than that appearing to remain cool and collected throughout the entire recollection of misery. Finally, when Mustang had finished, he let out a big, exasperated sigh.

"So not only have we not gotten any further information on this murderer, but now people are getting killed even more brutally?"

Mustang and Hawkeye looked at each other with pallid faces while Alphonse gulped. They did not need to answer that question.

"We have no idea where to begin on the blood mixture," Mustang stated honestly. "It's such a far-fetched idea that the only thing the detective and I could think of was to tie it back to our 'the murderer is an alchemist' hypothesis. But even then we have no evidence to back up that claim."

"If that's the only idea you've got, then roll with it, Mustang," Grumman said with a hint of annoyance in the tone of his voice. "We can't sit around and wait for the answer anymore; we've got to start doing something and stop just investigating."

"But sir, what if—"

"No buts, Lieutenant," Grumman interrupted the General's subordinate. "We're officially in a state of panic within Central. Haven't you seen the headlines today?"

The three of them shook their heads; none of them had bothered to take time in getting a copy of the paper since they were so exhausted from the previous eve. The Führer extracted a copy of the front page from beneath his desk and tossed it at them to read:

MURDER IN THE STREETS OF CENTRAL: WHAT THE MILITARY HAS BEEN HIDING!

"Oh no…" Hawkeye and Al said in unison, not daring to look up into Mustang's horror-struck expression.

"…This is today's paper?" the Brigadier General inquired with a shaky voice. Grumman did not answer the question with his voice but with the strict glean in his eye.

"Things are getting out of hand. For now the people are silent; how long until they start going into hysterics, Mustang? How much longer do you plan on leaving them in the dark?"

"I'm working on it, sir—"

"No, you are _planning_ on working on it. No more of this conversation, Mustang; we need action!"

Mustang sunk down into his seat, realizing that Grumman was absolutely correct in his reasoning. He was failing as a Brigadier General. Now was the time to step up and lead the city out of this killer's grasp.

"You have no excuse now that Alphonse is here," Grumman continued. Al blinked in surprise but did not question the Führer's words. He intends to use Alphonse, of course; even though he did not belong to the military and was not a state alchemist, there is still a lot he could do to help in their situation.

"There are plenty of hands willing to fight this man, even if he is an alchemist as you and Detective Grahnger have hypothesized. There is strength in numbers."

He sat back in his seat and crossed his arms.

"…I know you, General. You can bring this man down, and I have the utmost confidence that you will."

Mustang looked up from his lap back into Grumman's face and sighed heavily.

"You're right. I haven't been doing everything I could do to close this case. That's why it has gotten so out of hand."

He looked back at the newspaper and picked it up, skimming the article with distaste.

"What position would you like us to take on this?" the Brigadier General inquired of the Führer. Grumman frowned, staring intently at the paper for a long moment while Alphonse, Hawkeye and Mustang waited patiently for his answer. Finally, he also sighed.

"As much as I hate doing this to the people I'm going to have to stay silent on this subject. We can't let them know just how out-of-hand this has gotten. If the radio station or people from the newspaper approach you, simply inform then that we at HQ have no comment about the situation."

"Yes, sir," both Mustang and Hawkeye said in unison.

Grumman turned back to Alphonse, his expression softening up a bit.

"…I suppose you've been trying to find Edward."

"Yes sir, I have," Alphonse admitted. "I don't think he's dead yet, or else his body would've been found by now. It just seems really unlikely that the killer would have put so much effort into hiding his body."

"I agree, especially since he's back to killing, and with more brutality now…and though it chills me to say it, this turn of events may actually work to your advantage, Mustang. With the messier crime scenes there is more chance of finding evidence such as footprints or fingerprints. You had better get Grahnger and his team out there if they haven't gone already."

"They are there right now, I had just talked to the detective before coming to meet with you," Mustang promptly informed the Führer, who nodded in approvement.

"And you still have a search party out there for Edward?"

"Yes."

"Ok; retract them as soon as possible," Grumman said, much to the trio's shock.

"What?" Alphonse said in horror. "But sir—!"

"I'm sorry, Alphonse, but if Edward is unharmed he will come back on his own or be found sooner or later. If the killer did not finish him off then there must be some reason for him to be left alive. He will come back to us; meanwhile, we need to focus all of our troops in on hunting down the murderer. Do try to understand."

Of course Alphonse could not understand; his brother was missing, his only family left now that both of his parents were dead and gone. If something happened to Edward he would die. However, the leader of Amestris was firm on his word, and Al knew that arguing would be pointless. So instead, he resolved to stiffly nod in mock understanding…though he knew that he was going to hit the streets the very next evening, and there was nothing within the entire Amestrian military that would stop him.

…`c.n.`…

_**Damn…**_

The beast finally emerged from his lair as the streetlamps flickered on, cursing the sunlight. He made the sorry mistake of not taking shelter the first day after he had turned, and as a result earned himself a body covered with severe third-degree burns. His instincts had failed him, no matter how little their existence, and it made him slightly more precarious with his roaming around. He took the time to sleep during the day, but only on days that he got a decent amount of blood before. He found that sleep either did not come easily or did not even come at all when he was not satiated. It did not do him well to sleep in any area not completely pitch-black, either, hence the dark atmosphere of his hideout. His fangs elongated whenever fresh meat was present, and his throat ached and ached until it was hit by a wave of sweet, warm blood. He was driven by one thing and one thing alone, and that was his thirst. For what other purpose does a vampire have to remain in the city of his rebirth?

_**Bring forth your flesh for my feeding, filthy humans.**_

…_Wha—where am I?_

The beast froze mid-stride. There was a second voice interfering with his hunting. This will not do; he must be eradicated.

_**Silence. NOW.**_

_Who the hell are __you__? _Edward's soul demanded of the evil spirit lurking within his body. _And why am I covered with blood?_

_**You mean you don't **__**remember**__**? How rich…**_

_Remember what?_

_**The night you turned into a vampire, of course. Idiot.**_

…_The fuck? I'm a—what?_

Suddenly, the beast lost control; he could actually feel his inner self being forced out of the way as the former Edward Elric struggled to regain control of his body. How could a human soul be so persistent, let alone so _alive_, especially after all of the torture it had been through to become vampiric?

_Get the hell out of here!_

_**No…I'm rather liking it here. You are of no threat to me, weakling. It's best just to give in.**_

_Never! I'm no vampire, I've never murdered anyone before and I never will!_

_**Oh really now? How interesting that you pick those specific words…allow me to shed a bit of…**__**darkness**__** upon the subject.**_

Edward's soul stared in horror as the demon revealed images—memories—of him utilizing the boy's body to kill and ravage countless victims for their blood. He was not himself; he was possessed…and he still had no idea how that came to be. The beast, hearing his thoughts, chuckled evilly and showed him the torture of his turning, the despair his soul was put through, the torment of him being forced to feel his heart audibly stop within his chest, and yet not able to die.

_No…_

_**Yes.**_

_Fuck no!_

_**FUCK YES.**_

_GET THE FUCK OUT OF ME, YOU MONSTER!_

And the beast felt yet another jolt upon himself, Edward's body staggering back due to the intensity of the inner turmoil occurring beneath its skin—a very un-vampiric thing to do. He quickly straightened himself back up, growling in frustration.

_**Enough of this; I'm in control now. Now, this body is mine.**_

_I will get it back._

_**Hah! Dream your non-existent dreams all you want. Eventually you will come to realize that Edward Elric is no more.**_

_Never!_

_**Eventually you will give in to the night.**_

_NEVER!_

_**HAH! You still insist on fighting when I'm so obviously in control?**_

_Then I'll at least keep you from killing anybody else!_

…_**Bullshit.**_

As he said this last scathing comment, Edward suddenly lunged into the shadows of one building and grabbed onto the homeless man lurking there, the only witness to the invisible battle of wills. Or at least, he was; all it took was for the vampire to wrap a hand around his scrawny neck, to tighten his fist, snap the neck, and then drink from the partially decapitated dead man's head, as if it were a saucer full of wine rather than a disembodied head breaming with blood.

…`c.n.`…

Alphonse's will was beginning to falter.

It was night number four that he was out looking for his older brother rather than getting some much-needed sleep. Not that he could sleep in Ed's old hotel room anyway, but it was still beginning to drone on, this mindless wandering, not exactly knowing just what to look for and knowing that there was no way to get through the entire city. There were far too many nooks and crannies, abandoned warehouses, creepy alleyways for him to cover every square centimeter. It was impossible. On top of that he did not have anyone from the military helping him anymore. Mustang barely let him go out there period; only the fact that Alphonse is such a powerful alchemist himself allotted him his search warrant. And even then the Lieutenant insisted upon shoving a cold, metallic weapon into his possession.

They meant well but not well enough to Al's liking. It was obvious that they all believed that Ed was already dead and gone.

The moon stubbornly refused to break through the cloud cover that night. Alphonse was finding it extremely frustrating to search for an injured person in the constantly dimming light; he couldn't just keep to the well-lit streets, of course, because Edward wouldn't be there or else he would've been found by now…

Just as he thought that, however, a shadow crossed the street in front of him…a shadow with long hair.

_**I sense a presence…and it smells intoxicating.**_

Alphonse squinted, desperate to get a better look before approaching. What if it's Edward? What if it's the killer? Was finding out the figure's identity worth the risk?

He shook his head roughly; if he continued to think like this Edward would never be found.

_**Yes…come to me, my prey…and hurry before the stupid boy comes back.**_

He began to slowly approach the figure, one hand in his pocket, wrapped around the handle of the gun Riza lent him.

"Edward?" he whispered cautiously. "Is that you…?"

_**Just a little closer now…**_

…_Alphonse?_

_**Damn!**_

"…Brother?"

_It can't be…he's here? In Central? Al?_

_**SHUT UP. It's not Alphonse…whoever that is…**_

The monster was unprepared for what came next. At the sound of his brother's voice Edward found himself, and realized that he was acting weak, giving in to this evil spirit inside of him. At this thought, Ed began to slowly but surely suffocate the monster inside of him. His body became very still for a long moment…and then slumped down onto the concrete, his still-burnt face slamming hard into the illuminated pavement of the street.

_**What the hell do you think you are doing? I CONTROL **__**YOU**__**—**_

_SHUT THE FUCK UP; THAT'S MY BABY BROTHER, I WON'T LET YOU HAVE HIM!_

"Brother!"

"Al…"

Alphonse sprinted over at the sound of his big brother's broken, raspy voice. He was sick, very sick, he could tell already without even seeing his face. His clothes were horribly blood-stained, his shirt practically falling off of his shoulders, it was so badly ripped. Upon gently rolling him onto his back Al could truly see just how close to death Edward Elric was. His hair was matted and also blood-soaked from over a week out on the streets, one of his eyes surrounding by hideous black and blue bruising, the rest of his face covered in cuts and a shiny, blistered burn.

At least he was alive; Alphonse knew he was alive.

"Al…" Ed tried to speak, his voice hoarse from all of the screaming, vomiting and exhaustion he had suffered through in the midst of his turning. "I'm so…sorry…I-I—"

"Shh; you'll hurt yourself, Brother," Alphonse commanded, unable to keep his own voice from shaking in relief. _You didn't leave me after all..._

Edward on the other hand was feeling anything but relief; he could feel the killer trying to regain control, and he feared desperately for his little brother's life. He tried to get up but Al wouldn't let him move.

"You're hurt; we've got to get you to the hospital."

"No," Ed said immediately, panic filling him. The monster took this moment to aim another shot at Ed's spirit, but Ed held on tight for his brother's sake. "No, you can't! I'm sorry Al, I ca—"

"Ok, fine, no hospital yet!" Al reasoned, letting go of Ed, who had begun to shake.

"Calm down, brother. You'll hurt yourself."

"I c-can't…Al you have to l-leave me here," Ed said, his voice moving up from a hoarse hiss to a croak, which wasn't much better but at least helped hide the hysteria he was feeling pretty well. Much to his great terror, though, Al shook his head and put on his _be reasonable, brother_ voice.

This won't do. The monster was coming.

"It's ok, we'll figure this all out, let's go talk to General Mustang—"

"Al—"

The monster was coming.

"You've got to change your clothes, first, though; I have a shirt you can borrow if you're all out of clean ones, but we'll just have to rinse the blood off your pants—"

"Al—"

The monster was coming.

"Maybe now we can figure out this entire mystery, with your report to the detective—"

_**Here I come, my tantalizing prey—!**_

"ALPHONSE!"

Al stopped short, staring at his brother in shock. Did Ed just roar at him? The blonde looked down at the ground, then met his brother's golden eyes. Al gasped when he saw Ed's blood-red irises.

"…W-wha-?"

Edward's expression was dark, and the fearsome glint within his pupil gave Al a haunting feeling that Ed wasn't himself. He looked as if he were consumed by something evil, possessed by an invisible demon...

"We can't go to Mustang…because the killer is me."

_Give in to the night…_

…`c.n.`…


	7. Chapter 6

A/N: Edward's back! :D—or _is_ he? D: Yes, well hopefully this chappy will answer some questions, lolz… but not for everyone, I'd dare say. :o

That is all.

all things Fullmetal Alchemist (c) Hiromu Arakawa

Carpe Noctem...Seize the Night

Chapter Six: The Immortal Assassin

"_I'm killing them all,_

_I put my soul on the line;_

_I purify sins_

_That I committed in life…_

_So where will you go_

_When I will murder your soul_?"

-"Murder" by Within Temptation

…`c.n.`…

"No," Alphonse spoke at last once he found his voice, but it was low, and his eyes were still narrowed in disbelief at his brother. He could not accept this. Ed just could not have been the cause of this bloodbath. And yet, even as he thought this, the older boy's beat-up face held strong to his deadly serious expression, his unnaturally crimson eyes unfaltering.

"No—you're lying!"

Ed swallowed painfully, feeling his esophagus burn on with thirst.

"I k-killed those people," he said, tearing his furious gaze away from Al. His voice wavered on a note, as if he was about to say something, but he closed his mouth, deciding against it. After taking a deep, controlled breath that seemed to cause him more pain than relief, he continued dispassionately.

"I don't care if you don't believe me, because I'm telling the truth," he spoke, his words as piercing as daggers. "I'm the one who drank their blood."

Al's mouth opened and closed like a fish for a moment; he wanted to say something, but he didn't know just what. The only thing he did know was that Ed had to have been telling the truth. There was something seriously not right about him…

_**Just kill him already!**_

"You have to go," Ed suddenly said, scrunching his face up as if struggling with lifting a heavy object. "I can't be around you…I mean, you can't be here…I m-mean..."

"Ed—"Al tried to interject, his jumbled thoughts slowly falling into place, but his brother interrupted with a growl:

"Get out of here, Al!"

"No!" Alphonse said, rising from his spot next to Ed. "I won't until I get answers from you! You've been missing for days now—I arrived in town and you were already _gone_—and now you're trying to get me to go away? That's not about to happen, brother!"

Ed glared at him, the red tint in his pupils darkening dangerously. Alphonse held his ground, though, exhibiting the strength in the bravery he inherited from the blonde.

"…Fine," Ed said, lurching his eyes away from Al's face. He gulped painfully again, looking away, trying to regain his thoughts, making sure he was still in control. As far as he could tell the voice was silenced.

"What do you want to know?"

Al blinked; what kind of question was that? What _didn't_ he want to know?

"What happened the night you met up with the killer?"

Al paused, and then clarified: "The other killer."

_**Who said there **__**was**__** another killer?**_

Ed furrowed his eyebrows, resting his arms upon his knees and leaning forward. Alphonse sat down in front of him, keeping his eyes expectantly set on him, waiting for an answer. He regretted it immediately after Ed huffed, for the stench of old blood wafted from his rotten breath.

"The _other_ killer, huh…damn…my memory's kind of foggy. It's like, one minute it's there, I can see it clear as day, and then the next I can't think at all…I think I was fighting him. Yeah, that's it; I must have been trying to fight him but failing miserably…I had a gun, and I fired it a couple of times—or maybe it was more than that?—I have no clue, it's all blurry. But I know that in the end he ended up beating the shit out of me…and then it goes black..."

_**Then I come into play.**_

"Huh?"

Ed blinked, not realizing that he had spoken out loud. Did his voice sound anything like the one he had heard in his head?

"Never mind," he said quickly. "I can't remember the details—at least, not until after I wake up."

"So you were knocked out…" Alphonse deduced. "Did you hit your head or something? Can you remember that much at least?"

"Probably," Ed said in a shallow voice, but something in the tone of it told Al that that a concussion was not the main issue. The younger Elric stared at his brother, whose unreadable expression was anything but was it should have been…no remorse, no longing for redemption, no shame whatsoever.

Alphonse was beginning to get frustrated; _what is going on here?_

"I don't understand what had gotten into you…the brother I knew would _never_ have done that to those people. What the hell sent you over the edge—h-how could you? How could you so _brutally_ kill those innocent people, Ed?"

Al's tone of voice had turned towards hysterics; the sound of it enticed the animal within Edward. His human soul was still in control, though, which was a very perplexing situation to the beast within, the one who still desperately fought against the memories of the prey before him.

_**This boy…he is your link to the world you left…to your past life.**_

…_I guess he is…I mean, the only pieces I can still pick out of my memories—the ones that have any bit of clarity to them—are the memories I shared with my brother._

_**Hell, you can't even remember the night you turned.**_

The night he turned. Ed blinked in confusion; turned into what? What had he become? His existence now depended upon murder, upon engulfing as much blood into his decaying body as he could stand, upon avoiding the light of day and seizing the night…

_Stay in control, Ed,_ he told himself, holding back the evil smile threatening to escape, refusing to inhale at all so as to avoid smelling the scent of Al.

"You want to know how?" he said in an almost sarcastic tone. Al narrowed his eyes at the murderer.

"…What happened to you; _that's_ what I want to know."

A stray, loose-skinned dog trotted by, sending only a not-so-curious glance in the guy's direction before leaving their presence entirely. Al looked after it, a ghost of a breeze pushing gently upon his bangs, and then looked back at Ed.

"We'd better take this conversation elsewhere."

"No," Ed said, suddenly—even if only for a second—sounding like himself again. "It's too dangerous to take me off the street, Al."

"You're too dangerous to leave _on_ the street!" his brother retorted, grabbing Ed's hand and pulling. Ed's eyes bulged at the sudden warmth making contact with his broken, undead body, and he wrinkled his nose in desperation.

_**You're losing this battle fast, Elric.**_

_Shut the fuck up, demon._

Except the beast was right; the long-haired blonde did not budge, his pained gaze turned downward.

"Al…don't. I'm so scared that…that I'll kill you."

Alphonse's jaw hardened; his brother would not dare.

"I'll take my chances."

Upon a glance, Al led the reluctant Edward hastily across the deserted street and into the very alleyway he had run out of just a few minutes before.

"…I don't think I'm even human anymore, Al," Ed admitted, slumping against the wall, closing his scarlet eyes. "I can't comprehend what I'm doing when I kill, when I…hell, I don't know, feed?"

He laughed darkly, his chuckle crackling in hoarseness: "I don't even know what to call it."

Al shook his head, his heart pounding in terror:

"What do you mean you're not human…?"

Ed laughed again, ruefully, unable to hold back the deep, scratchy sound that chilled Al's blood.

"You're not gonna believe this, but…"

He searched his mind for an explanation…and then found one deep within the beast thriving inside of him…

"…but I've turned into a fucking _vampire_."

_**Vampire…yes. You have accepted your fate.**_

_Vampire…the fuck?_

"What?" Al said, but no sound came out of his mouth. _Vampire…?_

"_What_?" he repeated, a slightly higher-pitched tone escaping from his throat. But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense, despite his tone of disbelief, and despite how ridiculous the idea of the supernatural sounded to an alchemist. However, he figured that if creatures like the Homunculi could exist, then somehow vampires should have the same benefit of the doubt…shouldn't they? But seriously, this was the only assumption that made sense; the victims were drained of all blood; the fingerprints were unreadable, for even though they looked human, they were not. It was not alchemy that closed the puncture marks, it was the supernatural. Though every thought and summation that ran through the younger Elric's mind clicked properly into place and made perfect sense and practically solved the entire murder mystery…it all sounded like a ridiculously morbid horror film. Nobody at HQ would believe him…

No; nobody at HQ could know about this period, or else Edward would be destroyed. The consequences for murder in Amestris—no matter whether or not the killer was in his right mind, or rather, even human anymore—was death. Alphonse just got his brother back; there was no way he'd willingly give him up, no way could he bear to lose him again…

But could he allow Edward to continue killing for his existence?

"Al…"

Al blinked and looked away for a moment.

"…What are we going to do?" he asked finally. Ed sighed:

"It's not like it's reversible…I mean, technically, I'm supposed to be dead."

"NO!"

Ed looked at Al in surprise.

"Don't say shit like that! I don't believe that at all; we'll figure this out, I won't let them find out."

"What do you mean, you won't let them find out?" Ed demanded, rising in anger at what his brother was suggesting. "You can't hide me, Al. I won't let you endanger your life like that; it'd be better for you if they just got rid of me!"

"We'll figure this out," Al repeated, but his tone was more pleading now rather than forceful. _Please don't do this to me, brother._

Ed opened his mouth to protest again—

_**Enough; it's time to eat, dammit!**_

_NO!_

"A-Alphonse…" Ed said, suddenly burying his face in his hands, his fingers viciously grabbing at his hair. "…I've got to get out of here…we'll talk later, after I f-feed…just let me go."

Al looked at Ed, looked at how quickly his demeanor changed from concerned anger to ravenous psychotics, how quickly his new vampiric senses kicked in, and nodded once.

"Meet at the hotel right before dawn; I can hide you there until we come up with a plan…"

He sighed:

"But until then…you're right. General Mustang can't know that you're alive, Ed."

…`c.n.`…

It was an unholy time to receive a phone call, so Riza already knew who it was before she begrudgingly answered:

"Hello, sir."

On the other side of the line, Roy Mustang blinked:

"How'd you know it was me?"

"Who else calls at four-thirty in the morning?"

"Hey, I've only done that once before."

"Trust me, once is more than enough…"

In an effort to keep from waking up her peacefully sleeping dog, Black Hayate, Riza crawled out of the bed and took the phone with her to the other side of the room and lowered her voice.

"They found something in the lab, something that might be useful," Mustang explained.

"It couldn't wait until tomorrow?"

"No, because I just got it after work; Grahnger hand-delivered it to me. Apparently it was a rather recent discovery, one they couldn't interpret before."

"Ok, well, are you going to tell me what it is?"

"It's a footprint."

Riza started, her eyes widening in confusion.

"A footprint?"

"Well, boot print to be exact."

"_Boot print_?"

"Yes…and it looks identical to Elric's. You know those ridiculous black and red boots he insists on wearing all the damn time? The footprint matches them almost exactly."

"Almost?"

"Well, it's an incomplete print, of course. What are the chances of getting perfect evidence?"

"Very slim."

"Hence the reason for its impartialness."

"Go on; how recent is the footprint?"

"At least two days fresh."

"So…he's still alive!"

Riza stopped, glancing back at Hayate; he was still snoring softly, but she made a mental note to keep her voice down nonetheless.

"Exactly."

"Alphonse will be glad to hear that."

Roy was silent for a moment, and then Riza heard him sigh:

"Yes, at least he's alive…but what was he doing at the scene of the crime?"

Riza paused after this statement.

"…Maybe he's still trying to track down the murderer himself. Maybe he also has been following the blood trail, outside of the military."

"Maybe," Roy agreed with his Lieutenant General…even though he was still unconvinced.

…`c.n.`…

With a soft slap of the heavy sheets of material meeting, Alphonse drew the curtains closed, blocking out most of the rising sun's cruel light in order to accommodate for his brother's new needs.

"Is this dark enough?" he called out to the closed bathroom door.

Edward carefully crept out of the darkness of the small room, cautiously taking first one hesitant step, then two, until he was secure enough to let go of the cracked door. Since his burns he earned from the last contact he made with sunlight were healing still, he was extremely cautious about seeing the light of day again. The dim of the hotel room seemed to suffice for the dark he required, though, so he nodded in approval at Al.

"It's still hurting my eyes, but I can cover my face up, no problem."

"You'll suffocate," Al said concernedly, looking back at the mediocre drapes with derision. Ed chuckled darkly:

"I don't need to breathe, Al," he said softly. No further explanation was required; Al filled in the hollow haunting blanks himself.

Upon his brother's haggard arrival at the hotel that morning, Alphonse immediately upgraded to a double room, moving his suitcase and his brother's things from the other room to the larger, more accommodating room, where the elder Elric would hide during the daytime hours. So far, only Alphonse himself and the little old lady at the front desk had seen Edward in his newly undead state. Luckily, she did not read the newspaper and was easily persuaded that Ed was merely ill. The military, however, will not be so easily deceived.

"Ok," Al said, huffing into a chair next to a small desk located in front of his bed, the bed closest to the shaded window. "I'm going to have to leave in a bit, so…I guess just stay here and sleep, and I'll be back tonight—"

"I won't be here," Ed interrupted. "I've got to hunt."

_Hunt_, Al thought, wincing internally. _People aren't animals, Ed_.

"Are you going to tell them you've found me?" Ed suddenly inquired, sitting on the edge of the bed farthest away from the undesired window. Al paused; he had yet to work this out, how he was going to keep Ed's vampirism a secret.

"…No, not today…so don't go off and announce yourself to Central, ok?"

Ed snorted:

"And burn to a crisp? No thanks, I don't look as good when I'm well-done."

Al laughed at the joke, feeling much more at ease. Now that he had all the blood he needed, Ed was acting a lot more like himself than like a murderous beast. His eyes were gold again and he was making jokes; Al could almost completely push the fact that Ed had killed people just the night before from his mind…

Almost.

Edward yawned hugely, kicking off his boots and crawling underneath the blankets in exhaustion. The demon voice inside of him was silent, its hunger sated, granting Ed a moment of peace right before falling asleep. He forgot about the bloody, soiled and ripped nature his clothing bore and buried his face beneath the one crisply clean sheets of the bed, his loose, tangled hair brushing across his bruised cheek like a dirty blonde net.

"Not gonna lie, I'd forgotten how comfy a bed was," Ed spoke from beneath the covers. "This beats where I hid before by a long shot."

"Well," Al said, "I'm glad I found you, then."

"How long have you been in Central, Al?"

"A little less than two weeks. I've spent most of my time either helping the General with his paperwork or looking for you."

"Ah…so the general still has no idea the killer was a vampire…"

"Right, he doesn't even know you're…"

_Wait,_ Al thought. _He's not talking about himself, is he?_

"…You mean you or the previous killer, Ed?"

Silence answered his question.

"Ed?" Al repeated himself.

No answer. Al got up from his chair and walked over to the bed, wondering why Ed did not respond to his question. When he looked beneath the lump of covers, he saw that Ed was already dead to the world, truly resembling a corpse while sleeping a deep, breathless slumber.

…`c.n.`…

Exhaustion spread like wildfire in Central, or at least that was how it seemed to Alphonse. Upon arriving at HQ an hour and a half after hiding Ed in his hotel room, the young Elric found not only the Lieutenant General to be utterly exhausted, but the General himself.

"What were you doing that kept you up so late last night?" Al asked concernedly about the bags beneath General Mustang's eyes. The black-eyed officer glanced over at his number one subordinate and grabbed at a thin folder upon his desk.

"Grahnger sent me this evidence," he said without explicating upon the folder's contents. Instead, he thrust it into Al's grasp and sat down, waiting for the younger Elric to read through the report.

It was about his brother; they apparently found a boot print identical to one from Edward Elric's signature black and red boots at the scene of the last crime. It was a really recent print, too, suggesting that the guy could very well still be alive. _If they only knew_, Al could not help to think, then paused; how was he supposed to act to this news again?

"…I told you Ed was still alive! My brother doesn't give up so quickly—he's out there still!"

Hawkeye and Mustang looked at each other; they expected this kind of reaction, one so focused on the fact that the missing Elric was in fact still alive…but Alphonse was unfortunately missing the point.

"That's the good news, alright," Lieutenant Hawkeye spoke before Mustang got the chance to crush Al's hope. "But we have to approach this carefully, Al."

Al continued to play the part:

"What do you mean?"

"We mean," Mustang explained, "That for right now, Edward could just as easily be seen as a suspect then as a recovering victim."

Al furrowed his brow; he did not expect this comment.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He refrained from swallowing before continuing to lie: "Do you seriously think my brother would murder all those people?"

"We're not outright saying that he did it," Mustang corrected himself, "But for right now we cannot rule that possibility out, especially when we have absolutely no other evidence to work with."

"You know, when Führer Grumman said you needed to take action, he did not mean for you to attack your allies—"

"Be reasonable, Al!" Mustang said, rising from his seat and walking around to where Alphonse stood. "We are in the middle of a silent crisis right now; we have to keep an open mind or else risk throwing the entire city into chaos."

"It's already in chaos," Alphonse said darkly. "You have no idea just how bad it has gotten out there…"

Al sighed, slumping onto the sofa, planning out his next words just as one would plan out their strategy in a dangerously competitive game of chess. How does one keep the fact that their brother is a murderer, an immortal assassin from the military without making themselves suspects as well?

"…We need to double-check on that crystal, re-swab it," Al said, pulling the thought out of thin air in a desperate attempt to draw suspicions away from his big brother. "After all, did you really put enough time into that completely random object?"

Mustang frowned slightly, then shrugged.

"Fair enough; we'll re-analyze the crystal."

"You might try breaking it open, too," Al suggested. Mustang and Hawkeye looked at each other.

"Detective Grahnger suggested the opposite, actually," Riza explained:

"He said that, given the fact that we may be dealing with an alchemist here, that the contents of that stone could be really dangerous. Who knows what kind of chemicals it could have in it, after all."

_Checkmate_.

"An alchemist, huh?" Al said, frowning slightly. "You're still going by that idea?"

"Yes," Mustang and Hawkeye said in unison. Mustang cleared his throat:

"How else could the puncture wounds have disappeared?"

"If you think the killer's an alchemist, then why would Ed be a suspect?"

There's the trick, the move that corners Mustang's king. The General blinked, obviously not having considered the fact that Ed could no longer perform alchemy in the midst of his blame game.

"…Fair enough, I'll take Edward off of the suspect list," the Flame Alchemist snapped, snatching the folder from Alphonse's grip. Al grinned slightly in celebration of his victory, rising from his seat.

"Thank you, General…I'm going to get a cup of coffee, anybody else want some?"

"No, thank you," Hawkeye said, and Mustang also shook his head as he extracted the list of possible suspects—bearing only a single name upon the mostly blank page—from the deep recesses of his pile of files atop his desk. Once Al left the room, the Lieutenant looked over at him.

"You're not actually going to take Ed's name off, are you?"

"Nope."

…`c.n.`…

He could actually feel the gold of his irises being consumed by the red tint signaling thirst. The familiar burning sensation is what awakened him, alerted him that his need for blood had resurfaced. Ed rose from the bed, momentarily feeling a drowsy confusion on how he ended up in the hotel room. It was difficult for him to think straight, to separate subconscious ideas from facts and figures. Finally, with the help of a demonic, hungered growling from deep within his spirit, he figured it out:

He had to get the hell out of the hotel, before Alphonse got back.

_So where will you go when I will murder your soul?_

…`c.n.`…


	8. Chapter 7

A/N: Chapters are gonna start getting longer and longer from this point on, which I doubt any of y'all will have a problem with. :) MWAH HA HA HA HAH! *clears throat* that is all…

all things Fullmetal Alchemist (c) Hiromu Arakawa

Carpe Noctem...Seize the Night

Chapter Seven: Red Alert

"_Even the dead cry,_

_Their only comfort._

_Kill your friend, I don't care;_

_Orchid kids, blinded stare._

_Need to understand,_

_No need to forgive;_

_No truth, no sense_

_Left to be followed."_

-"The Kinslayer" by Nightwish

…`c.n.`…

Nothing. Absolutely nothing more was found upon the crystal than was found on it the first time they swabbed it. Mustang did not expect anything, of course, but he still would have liked just one more piece of evidence to show to the Führer that morning during their meeting. Then perhaps Grumman would not have anything bad to say...

_Who am I kidding? This entire situation begs for negativity. Grumman has every right to be terse.  
><em> "Come in."

"Good morning, sir," Mustang greeted Grumman, hoping that his amiable smile would put the old man in a really good mood before bearing the bad news.

Grumman was unfazed by his display of a friendly greeting. In fact, he didn't even see it due to the fact that he was so immersed in his newspaper. Mustang knew why; the day's headlines were particularly disturbing:

CENTRAL HEADQUARTERS' SILENCE ONLY HEIGHTENS FEAR.

The people were not stupid, everyone at HQ knew this; they were losing family and friends left and right, and they had no idea why. All they knew is that they are being deceived, and that the truth was being withheld from them.

"I hope you have a suspect by now, General," Grumman said, finally looking up as Mustang took a seat in front of the leader's vast desk. Mustang paused, and then nodded.

"First, though, I want to share the new evidence Grahnger found at the most recent crime scene."

"Ok, let's have a look," Grumman said, holding out his hand for the envelope in Mustang's grip. Upon looking at its contents, the Führer looked decidedly unimpressed.

"Explain the significance of a _footprint_…?"

Mustang leaned forward in his seat.

"We measured it and found a match to a person currently residing within the city limits. It came from Edward Elric's boot."

Grumman raised an eyebrow.

"From a dead man."

"Obviously he's _not_ dead, sir," Mustang said, crossing his arms and glancing out the window. "Or else he wouldn't be walking around the city in the dead of night. Dead men don't walk."

He leaned over the desk, pointed at the picture within Grumman's hands.

"This print was found at the crime scene, and it was made by Edward stepping into the puddle of blood surrounding the victim's bodies."

"How curious," Grumman said. It was obvious that he finally believed the fact that the elder Elric still walked the streets…but he was barely missing Mustang's point.

"…Here is my witness list so far," Mustang said, reaching into another folder. "It's small, I know, but…so far, all of the evidence has only pointed to this one person."

Grumman took the list and frowned deeply.

"…You mean to tell me, General, that not only do you think that Edward Elric has miraculously survived his encounter with the murderer…"

He glanced over his glasses at the suddenly uncomfortable Mustang.

"…But now you are blaming him for twelve accounts of first-degree murder out of the blue? Just like that you are so willing to suspect the ex-Fullmetal Alchemist, a former officer of the very military you are serving?"

Well, when he said it that way, Mustang could easily say he felt pretty stupid assuming such a thing. His gut feeling pushed him to nod in confirmation, however, which made the Führer exhale frustratingly.

"Think about it; only Edward's blood has been found in any of the samples we've gotten. Only Edward's boot has made a print at a crime scene. He has the intellect to pull this off, sir, and so far the only lead we've got leads to putting the blame on him. I know it seems unlikely that he would murder _anyone_—I mean, I _know_ Fullmetal—"

"How do you explain the lack of puncture wounds then, General?"

Mustang froze; Alphonse had pointed this out as well, had he not? Mustang completely forgot to come up with a scenario for the Führer…

"How could Elric have gotten rid of the scars without alchemy?"

"I'm sure there's another way he could be doing it—"

"Then find me that evidence, Mustang!"

Grumman lifted the day's paper from his desk.

"Haven't you read this?"

"Yes, sir, I have."

"We cannot remain silent any longer," Grumman said, his voice suddenly much lower, his demeanor relatively dark.

Mustang's eyes widened:

"You can't be serious, sir."

"General…we must."

"But then there will be chaos—!"

"There is already chaos," Grumman pointed out. "They deserve to know why they are dropping like flies, do they not?"

"Yes, but—"

"No buts!"

Grumman stood from his chair, turning his back on Mustang and facing the window, looking out upon his beloved city, the innocent people that helplessly roamed the streets on a daily basis. The last thing the Führer wanted to do was have them walk that boulevard in fear, but…better safe than sorry.

"…I have to. It goes against everything I stand for to remain silent any longer, Mustang."

Brigadier General Mustang opened his mouth to protest once again…then closed it. He knew that Grumman had a point, that it had come to the point when the entire city must be ever alert, ever aware that at any moment during the night, they could be the next victim…the next one to be slaughtered.

…`c.n.`…

Edward was gone by the time Alphonse got back to the hotel. Not that he expected his big brother to be there in the first place; he figured out that his normal schedule and his brother's nocturnal habits were not very likely to cross anytime soon with the vampire's eating habits the way they were. That was fine by Al for the time being, for he still had not figured out a way to disguise Ed's murderous…tendencies.

That is what Al will call it, for he will never, _ever_, be able to see his big brother as a murderer.

…`c.n.`…

_A fucking vampire…I don't believe it. Vampires don't exist._

_**Then how are **__**you**__** here?**_

_I don't know…I swear—I know I died back there, with that monster._

_**Oh, you remember now, do you?**_

_Yeah, seeing Alphonse…it brought back some memories. Not many, I still can't remember most of who I was and what I did before I turned…_

Something was very wrong with this scene. Why was Ed being so talkative—almost amiable, even, with this demon possessing his body? But then it hit him; who else could he talk to…?

…_Alphonse. I need to talk to Alphonse again._

_**And why would he want to talk to **__**you**__**, now that he knows just what you are, and what you have done?**_

_I didn't kill those people—you did!_

_**And yet here you are, standing in a lake of blood, your mouth watering with the sweet, sweet taste of your fresh kill…**_

…_No…_

But the beast was right. It seemed that the only time he could still kill was by distracting Edward Elric's still-existent soul while tearing into the flesh of another. Edward nearly vomited up all of the blood in his body at the sight of what remained of his female victim: a body split completely down its middle, blood-and-waste covered entrails falling into her crimson pond of death.

The monster within him laughed, and he closed his eyes as his body was forced into a kneeling position, the tips of his bangs dipping into the red liquid as the vampire inside began to lap up the split blood.

Edward Elric's deadened stomach churned: _This isn't happening. I'm living a ghost story…a fucking nightmare._

…`c.n.`…

"Alphonse!"

"Huh?"

The younger Elric rapidly sat up from his place at Mustang's desk, a piece of paper stuck to his sweat-covered forehead. Lieutenant General Hawkeye stood before him, two steaming mugs of coffee in his hands, a look of deep concern upon her usually cool face.

"You were asleep."

"Oh!" Alphonse said, not realizing that the images of fangs, innocent terror and rivers of blood were not real…or were they?

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant, I didn't get much sleep last night."

"Here, this'll help," she said, setting the mug of coffee in front of him. Alphonse took it gratefully, then looked up at her and feebly asked:

"I wasn't talking in my sleep again, was I?"

"Nah," Breda said from across the room. "You were nearly yelling this time."

"Oh, damn," Alphonse muttered. Riza sat upon the sofa in front of him.

"…Something's been bothering you lately," she said. It wasn't a question, but her expression demanded an answer from Alphonse. He answered truthfully:

"I can't stop thinking about Ed…especially now that I know he's alive and out there somewhere."

Riza sighed.

"I understand. Hopefully he'll turn up soon. That would be good for us, too; maybe he knows something that we don't."

"Yeah," Alphonse half-heartedly agreed. He no longer felt like assisting the military anymore, now that he was preoccupied with hiding Ed from they're accusatory eyes.

Someone cleared his throat loudly from the doorway of the room; Alphonse looked up.

"I believe that desk belongs to me, Elric."

The mischievous look on his face fell immediately after saying those words, however; was it not just yesterday that he said those exact same words to the elder Elric? No, it was several weeks ago, now…but it certainly did not feel so long ago. The situation was not nearly as grave then.

"Sorry, sir," Alphonse said, rising from the seat. Mustang did not sit, though, unwilling to let all of the stress and grief filling his being to pile up atop him just yet.

"How was your meeting with Führer Grumman?" Hawkeye inquired. Mustang shook his head, collapsing into his chair.

"…I've run out of ideas, and Grumman's going to make a public announcement on the radio tonight."

"No, he can't!" Alphonse said.

"What?" Fury and Breda shouted from the opposite side of the room, looking up from their work in surprise.

"That'll send the city into chaos for sure," Hawkeye stated gravely. Mustang met her eyes.

"That is exactly what I told Grumman. He wouldn't hear of it, though; I'm sure he had already made up his mind before I walked into the room."

"I can't believe…" Alphonse's voice trailed off. That was a lie, he knew very well why Führer Grumman made the decision to tell the city everything. Not only would it make him look bad when the truth got revealed anyway if he kept silent, but it was not right, keeping such a deadly secret from them, when he was supposed to protect, not ignore.

"…Ugh, what a mess…" he muttered, falling onto the sofa across from Lieutenant Hawkeye. The Führer was by no stretch of the imagination the only person at HQ keeping dark secrets from Central City, that he was certain of…that and the fact that Grumman was not the only person in the building with a confession to make.

…_But how do I tell them that my brother is the murderer? How do I confess, without sentencing Ed to his own death?_

…`c.n.`…

Edward's nightmare only worsened as he slept through yet another dreamless night and arose the next night, lusting for as much blood as the eve before. He trailed the city's avenues idly, searching for something unknown to him. Only the beast within could smell the blood he now thrived off of. His human soul, or at least what was left of it, had been left to learn the hard lessons of Death on its own, for it was the disease-like intrusion that took over when the craving became so severe that he felt himself slipping into madness.

But tonight he had his nerve, he could feel it. There was a difference in his steps. He was fully conscious of where he was, what he was about to do, what shape the moon was in as it looked disapprovingly down upon his evil existence.

There was a small cry in the distance; Edward's ears perked up to the innocent sound. It was soft, female in nature…and it came from a little girl, cowering beneath the dim beams of a fading streetlight.

_How enticing…_

Edward blinked in confusion; did that come from him or the monster? Was there even a difference in the voices anymore? Nonetheless he found himself walking towards the girl, staring down at her with his unforgiving red eyes. She did not realize his presence until it was too late…until she realized that the last thing she would see on this frightening final night of her life would be that look of crimson savagery.

Minutes later, Edward was in the shadows, sobbing, her lifeless body in his arms, her blood running down his fangs and chin. He dropped to his knees and held her tightly against his chest, his burning, tearless eyes gazing up at the now-condemning crescent moon as the dark, evil liquid dripped down his neck, slithering and constricting like a bloody serpent.

_I'm the devil…I-I'm a demon..._

…_**You've just now realized this?**_

Edward sat there for a long moment, his mind torturing his soul, his silent heart trembling for the wasted life now lying dead in his arms. He never knew her, never had a damn thing against her. Why would he, for after all, she could not have been older than ten or eleven. Now she would never play again, never giggle or smile. Her mother would be tormented forevermore by her death, by what Edward did to her.

He felt his fangs puncture the thick muscle of her throat. He began to drink again. He closed his eyes, that way he would not have to look into her lifeless eyes while drinking, even though he knew he would see them once he relinquished her body, once he was sated. When that moment finally came, he laid her back down onto the cold concrete, lifting a quaking hand to her eyelids and closing them.

Tomorrow morning they would find her body. Tomorrow morning they would find a clueless crime scene. Tomorrow morning, the murderer would be sleeping a cursed sleep in a hotel room merely two blocks away from Central HQ.

Edward shook his head, his chest heaving with the pain he still felt for the young life he had stolen.

_Sated or not, I've got to get out of here._

_**I would not recommend that; you do that and all you would be doing is endangering you brother.**_

…_That's who I need to talk to, not you. Alphonse._

…`c.n.`…

It was getting late again, but Alphonse knew there would be no point in going to bed. He had not been able to sleep ever since finding Ed, even though he has not talked to him since that night. Whenever he went back to the hotel during the day, Ed was sound asleep, and then by the time he returned back at night, Edward was already gone hunting. Despite this, however, Alphonse could not help but wait, for he truly did need to talk to the vampire, in order to collaborate a plan of action, for this murder could not continue…

As if on cue, the creature suddenly bolted through the door, pausing right in front of the doorway, staring at Al as if shocked that he was there. Alphonse stared back for a moment as well, observing with an unnerved stomach the dried blood upon his chin and neck and the redness of his lips. As if sensing what the stare was directed at, Edward gulped and wiped his sleeve across the bloodstains, bowing his head in shame.

"I don't know what to do anymore," he spoke finally, collapsing onto the floor, his loose hair covering his ashen face. "I…I know I can't keep k-killing like this, but…..."

He sighed, burying his face in his hands, his voice cracking as his face contorted in pain.

"It's too strong. The thirst…I can't control it."

He shook his head.

"…I killed a little girl tonight," he whispered shakily. "I'm a monster, Al."

Alphonse looked with horror at his brother.

"W-what—how could you? After how you reacted to Nina's death, and you go out there and kill a…"

He could not say the words; they were like acid on his tongue, cruel and sizzling, stripping flesh from bone in a slow, torturous process. Edward glanced up at him, a blank expression on his creased face.

"Who's Nina?"

Al's jaw dropped.

"You don't remember?"

"I told you, Al; you're all I can remember from my past…that name doesn't ring a bell."

"Then…how can you remember me?"

Ed shook his head: "I don't know. I think…I think it's because you were the last thing I thought about before I…well, died."

Silence ensued, the dark creature's thick words teasing the already festered melancholy of the conversation at hand.

Al stood up and crossed the room, standing before his older brother, searching his mind for the right words to say in this kind of situation. After realizing that there were none:

"Well, you _have_ to try and control yourself. _We_ have to…to find a way to make this work. Because you can't stop drinking blood, and I can't stand to lose my brother."

"Alphonse, there's no way—"

"We'll find a way," he said with more forcefulness, looking down at him. "Alchemists search for the truth, for the solution, and that's what I plan to do, alright?"

Edward did not look at his little brother; he couldn't face him. _I just killed someone the same age he was…that night…_

But what night was that? He remembered his brother in that suit of armor, remembered the horror of the night that took his body away…but he had long forgotten what had caused said horror. He had forgotten what cost him his leg, what forced that automail upon him.

"Ed?"

"…Yeah, I heard you. Guess there's nothing I can do to convince you otherwise, huh?"

Alphonse smirked:

"You know me so well."

"You're the only one I can recognize, my only tie I have to the human world…"

Edward looked at him, with a broken, almost pitiful look on his face. It was horrifying to Alphonse, seeing his strong, fearless big brother so filled with pain.

"…Ok," the vampire said, rising from his place on the floor. "I'll try for you, Al."

"I know you will," Alphonse responded, sitting down at the edge of the bed, looking down into his lap.

"The only way we'd be able to pull this off is by fooling the military."

"Right," Ed said, leaning against the wall. "You've been working with them ever since you got here, right?"

"Yeah," Alphonse said, looking up at Edward. "Which will make it that much harder to hide you here at the hotel…but I think we can do it."

Ed raised an eyebrow:

"How?"

Alphonse returned the look.

"Have you looked in a mirror, lately? You really _do_ look like you've just risen from the dead."

Edward made a move to go into the bathroom and look for himself, but at the last second decided against it. He really did not want to look into the eyes of a walking corpse; it was bad enough that Alphonse had to.

"If I could just get Mustang and Riza to see you in this state—we'll put you in bed, make you look like I found you horribly sick and on the verge of death, but you refused to go to the hospital, which would be expected anyway—then maybe we could get them to spread the word to the rest of HQ and keep the officers higher up from snooping around, mainly Grumman. Got it so far?"

"Think so," Ed said, ignoring the dull simmering deep within his throat. "Go on; have any ideas on how I can stop killing people?"

"Not yet," Al admitted. "I don't know enough about your…eating habits."

"Oh," Ed said, looking away. "Right."

More silence followed, and then Ed cleared his throat awkwardly:

"What do you need to know?"

_Good question, brother,_ Al thought, blinking. _I don't even know where to start; I don't know anything about…vampires._

"Well," the younger Elric began, thinking through his plan. "Do you always kill when you, uh, drink?"

Ed nodded solemnly.

"I haven't gained enough control of myself yet. Once I taste the blood, I can't stop drinking."

"I figured," Alphonse said, frowning. "At this rate, you'll kill half the city before gaining control. We can't wait that long."

"I can try harder," Edward said, a sliver of the same determination Alphonse knew from all those years of them searching for the Philosopher's Stone showing within his abnormally colored eyes. "No; I _will_ try harder."

The little girl's face ghosted into his mind once again…

"…I will not take another innocent life. No matter how much the monster wants me to."

Alphonse pursed his lips.

"Ok…But we can't take any chances that someone will recognize you," he said, looking at his brother's appearance. "It helps that you wear your hair down now, because everyone is used to it being up, but still recognizable, even with the red eyes."

Edward nodded, thinking.

"…I'll wear a cloak or something, something that covers my face and helps me to blend in with the darkness."

He laughed once—sadistic laughter full of mirth and bitterness.

"Might as well get into character, get used to being Dracula."

The corner of Alphonse's mouth twitched but he did not return the laughter. He couldn't.

Thus, more silence that otherwise would have never existed between the Elric brothers ensued, darkening the atmosphere of the room even more, is possible.

"…So are you in for the night?" the younger Elric inquired of the vampire. Ed thought on this for a moment.

_**Go ahead. Do it. Like I care whether or not your dear brother suddenly becomes a tasty snack.**_

_I got enough already, I won't be putting him in danger…I think._

The beast remained silent, wordlessly hoping that its master's answer would be yes…

To its great delight, Ed nodded.

"Ok then," Al said, walking over to his bed next to the window. "I'm going to bed, so bolt the door when you get the chance, will you?"

"Sure," Ed said, his voice cracking hoarsely.

"Is the heater high enough for you?" Al inquired, gesturing to the electrical heating unit located beneath the window. Ed blinked, realizing something quite perplexing for the first time since the night he turned.

"Oh," he said softly as his jumbled thoughts pieced together at last. "I can't…I…"

Al looked confusedly at his older brother.

"Are you ok?"

Ed shook his head once, his dirty hair flitting into his face, and he smirked slightly.

"I have no…body temperature anymore," he said, apparently mulling over the words. "I don't think it matters anymore whether it's hot or cold, 'cause I can't feel it."

Alphonse stared at him.

"You…can't feel?"

"No, not different temperatures, at least." He shrugged; "could be more things I can't feel, too, I just haven't discovered them yet."

"You can't feel…"

Alphonse's chest constricted; an intense feeling of déja vu had just hit him. _It's…it's just like when I was in the armor…all over again. That nightmare is back, it's happening again._

"Ok then, I'm just going to leave it where it is, then," Al said at last, turning his back on his brother and crawling into bed. "'Night."

Ed soon realized how bad of an idea it really was to stay in the hotel room; he could smell Alphonse's blood from the other side of the room, and it smelled wonderful. Oddly appealing, actually, for it had a sweeter scent than the blood from some of his previous victims. _Probably because he's more innocent, therefore making his blood more pure…_

_The hell am I __thinking__? That's my brother I'm talking about!_

_**Told you so.**_

Ed shook his head, making his way over to his bed and crawling under the covers.

_Despite what you believe, you don't control my thoughts, you know._

_**No, but I control just about everything else, from your morale to your self-control. In fact, now that I think about it, if I make you kill this Alphonse of yours, you would no longer have any connection to the human life you once had; then you would be **__**mine**__**.**_

_Kill Alphonse…_

The very thought made Edward's stomach churn in fury.

_I WON'T LET YOU FUCKING TOUCH MY BABY BROTHER!_

_**Hehehe, we shall see about that…**_

Edward sighed, and then winced violently, doubling over as he quickly made a note to hold his breath for the rest of the evening. Even the slightest puff of air carried a strong tint of Al's scent within its particles; one sniff too many and Edward could lose his self-control; lose the battle of willpower against the beast brewing within what was left of his soul.

After all, the monster was right; once he loses Alphonse, he loses the ability to exist on top of losing his brother.

…`c.n.`…

Alphonse was certain he woke up screaming this time. His face was dripping in sweat, his eyes wide and his pupils dilated in horror. His nightmare had been that realistic, that traumatizing had been so plausible that is chilled Alphonse to the core.

Upon glance toward Ed's bed, he found to his relief that the vampire was still sound asleep, despite the noisy awakening occurring next to his bed. _Maybe I didn't scream that loud after all,_ Al thought, though with some doubt. He was definitely screaming in the dream, at least.

After brushing his bangs out of his eyes, he glanced up at the clock ticking upon the wall, wincing at the sinfully early time it read. He still had a good two hours until he was needed at Central Headquarters, but now there was no way he would be able to return to sleep.

…_Might as well get up and take a shower, then._

Whilst he walked into the bathroom, he yawned hugely, down casting his eyes as he reluctantly pondered the nightmare once again. _That would never happen,_ he told himself without much comfort. But he repeated his words nonetheless:

_Brother would never do that to me._

His reflection in the mirror was so strikingly similar to his brother's that his reared back from it suddenly, blinking once, then twice. Had his sleep honestly been so restless that he earned himself a pair of horrifically dark bags beneath his swollen eyelids? His frown deepened as he figured that on top of his disturbing slumber that night and the previous nights, the fact that he would inadvertently wait up for Ed until he just about passed out every night certainly did not help him solve his sleep disorders.

He turned the shower on and stepped under the stream—only to leap right out of it, cursing under his breath as he shivered. _Ed's so lucky he doesn't have to deal with this shit anymore,_ Al thought frustratingly as he hastily adjusted the water's temperature.

When he stepped underneath the now-steaming waterfall, a deep sigh escaped his lips, and he felt every joint and muscle in his body, previously tensed-up, relax slowly. As the warmth fell over him, the disturbing memory of the dream numbed out, becoming only a small nagging thought rather than a traumatic image. His hand brushed at the side of his neck, idly feeling for anything out of the ordinary, a scar, or perhaps two puncture wounds identical to the ones found upon every victim…two bite marks caused by his brother's fangs…

_I couldn't stop him; even though he was the walking dead, he bore double the strength he ever had when he was alive, when he was an alchemist. This was the first physical fight with him I had ever lost, and I lost a lot in this fight. I lost my life, I could see that my minutes—my seconds were numbered—as he took my face in his hands and turned my head to the side, exposing my neck to his hungry fangs. I let out a scream as I felt them force their way through my skin and into my veins, a great, burning agony I had never felt before…even when I was taken through the Gate, I didn't feel this pain. Not even the time I lost my entire body to alchemy tortured me as much as Edward was at that moment. My heartbeat strained to keep up with the pace of his sucking, the intensity of his drinking…my chest began to hurt as my heart began to get really tired really fast…I cried out again when Ed pulled his fangs roughly out of my throat, and when I opened my eyes, which were previously closed tight in pain, I could see just how twisted and frightening his face had become. He didn't look anything like my big brother, did not even closely resemble Edward Elric at all. I looked into his pupils and watched as they faded slightly back to their original gold, but only just. Now they looked like the color of dried, dirty blood. And just when I thought the pain was going to fade away forever, that I was spared from an untimely death, Ed grabbed me roughly, once again forcing his fangs back into my neck, drawing out yet another scream from my throat…_

Alphonse opened his eyes into the water, trying to clear his mind completely of the dumbed-down version of his nightmare replaying itself over and over again in his haggard mind. Yes, dumbed-down; the actual dream was even more graphic than his water-logged rendition of it. But the clearer his mind became in the steaming shower, the more ridiculous the idea of his brother hurting him so horridly became. There was no way he would threaten his little brother's life, especially after all those years he had spent trying to save it…

_Wait, _Al suddenly thought. _He doesn't remember any of that…_he frowned in confusion. _But he __does__ remember me. That should be enough…I hope that's enough._

And with that last sliver of reassurance, no matter how truly weak it was, Alphonse stepped out of the shower, feeling much better than he had felt right after waking up. The warmth of the shower did wonders to wake up his face and his muscles too, and when he glanced back into the mirror after wiping off the damp steam from the reflective surface, he found that the bags beneath his eyes were even less pronounced than they were before…and then he remembered his harsh words from just a few minutes beforehand; _Ed's so lucky he doesn't have to deal with this shit anymore…_

Alphonse closed his eyes, guiltily leaning over the sink, his wet bangs dripping onto his forehead. _I'm sorry, Brother…_

Now he really did not want to go to HQ, but nonetheless, he forced himself down the stairs and into the main lobby of the hotel, where a couple and a small family with two little girls sat and listened to a radio newscast, sipped coffee, and read the morning paper. Based on the general atmosphere of the room, he deduced that the Führer had already made his announcement to the city.

"What are we going to do?" Al overheard the woman with the two children whisper to her concerned-looking husband. "I mean, is it even safe to stay in the city anymore?"

"I…I don't know," he said honestly, setting the paper down onto the table in front of them. "Everyone's saying just stay indoors during the night and we'll be safe, but I don't know who to believe anymore—certainly not the military, after they've been keeping all of this from us…"

Al winced inwardly; he had anticipated this sort of reaction, but the man's words were biting and disturbing nonetheless…

"Alphonse Elric?"

Al looked in the direction in which the voice came from; the man standing behind the front desk was holding a phone in his hand and gesturing for Al to come and get it.

"It's Brigadier General Mustang calling from headquarters."

Al sighed, taking the phone from the man.

"Hello?"

"Alphonse!" Mustang barked. "Where are you?"

"I'm walking out of the hotel right now!"

"Well, hurry up!"

"Why, what's going on?"

"We've found another victim, only this time it's a _child_."

"I—"

Al nearly choked; he almost completely gave away his secret by sayin 'I know that already.' He mentally kicked himself; _come on, be more careful!_

"…Oh no."

"Exactly. This has gone on long enough. We're ending this once and for all today, no matter what."

"What do you mean—?"

"Just get over here!"

And with that, the enraged Flame Alchemist hung up on Alphonse, leaving him staring troublesomely into an empty receiver.

…`c.n.`…

The day was long and hard on everybody at HQ, the news of the little girl's death being the fuel to their fire, to the machine leading their deep investigations, consisting of extracting all of the past victim's paperwork and deciphering every word, every punctuation mark upon their pages. At some point during the day Mustang and Grumman met up with the pathologists that investigated all of the past victim's corpses, which only made the already stressed General. In the middle of the afternoon, the entire case became far too much for Armstrong to handle, and he ended up being hysterically escorted out of the building by Dr. Knox. While watching him go, Alphonse personally wondered how long it would take until he two lost it, before he also was reduced to sobs of terror.

It was the latest Al had ever stayed at Central HQ, nearly midnight, but he dared not even ask about leaving for his hotel. Only the Brigadier General himself, Lieutenant Hawkeye and Alphonse were left in the building at this point; even Grumman had to retire for the evening.

Alphonse looked at the name on the file folder he was holding within his grasp: _Melanie Drews_. Based on the date and the description of the crime scene, this was one of the victims that Ed did not kill, that the previous murderer slaughtered. But, of course, this vital piece of evidence was one he was forced to keep a secret from Mustang and Hawkeye…

Or was he? Out of all the people in the Amestrian military, Mustang and Hawkeye were the two most trustworthy of such dark information. They would probably be able to help hide Ed as well…

"…General?"

Mustang looked up from the folder he was reading from; Riza turned away from the window and also faced the young Elric.

"Did you find something?" Mustang inquired immediately.

Al paused; _am I really about to do this_?

"No, but…but I have a confession to make."

The older officer's expecting eyes were wide and unblinking as Al took a deep breath and said:

"I know who the killer is. It's Ed."

Silence…and then—

"_WHAT?"_

Alphonse winced; he had anticipated this kind of reaction from them, but he nonetheless took a deep breath to explain. Before he could continue, however, Mustang demanded:

"How long have you known?"

"Only four days; I saw Ed the other night, saw him right after he had…you know…and I could tell already there was something wrong with him, that the previous killer had done something to him."

"There are _two_?" Hawkeye said increadously. Alphonse nodded:

"I think so. Anyway, I took him back to the hotel with me and, well…that's where he stays during the day now."

"During the day? What—?"

But before Hawkeye could make her intelligent inquiry, Mustang bellowed:

"Excuse me? Do you mean to say that the whole time—this entire time—you've been hiding the murderer in your hotel room?"

"Pretty much," Alphonse admitted, expecting this kind of a reaction from Mustang.

"I could have you arrested for this, Alphonse!"

"I know. Go ahead and do so. But you're not going to find anything out that way."

Mustang paused at these unusually calm words coming from the younger Elric.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Alphonse looked the Brigadier General in the eye; what he was doing, what he was about to say was so opposite from his usual amiable nature it was nearly a Jekyll and Hyde difference occurring within him. But since it was for Ed, for his big brother, Al found that this dark, hostile temperament came naturally to him. After all, just as Ed would do so for him, Al would do anything for him, even blackmail the Amestrian military.

"You know who the murderer is. Fantastic. How are you going to prove that he did it?"

_No truth, no sense left to be followed…_

…`c.n.`…


	9. Chapter 8

A/N: This chapter…it begins to get bad. Just warning y'all, leave while you still can if you've a fair heart, b/c with the ideas bubbling in my brain for this story, it is only going to get a hell of a lot worse from here on out. :)

all things Fullmetal Alchemist (c) Hiromu Arakawa

Carpe Noctem...Seize the Night

Chapter Eight: Unsatiated

"_You should have known_

_The price of evil_

_And it hurts to know_

_That you belong here…_

_No one to call_

_Everybody to fear_

_Your tragic fate is looking so clear, yeah…_

_It's your fucking nightmare."_

-"Nightmare" by Avenged Sevenfold

…`c.n.`…

Mustang was not amused, and he knew he was in as distasteful of a position that he could ever be in, which only angered him more. Here he was, standing less than three feet away from the truth behind the serial murder he had been tracking for nearly a month now, and the boy with all the knowledge behind the deaths was playing a damn game with him.

"…I'll tell you two everything," Alphonse began, "because I trust you, and I know that out of everybody in the military, you two would be the most likely to help me find a solution to this mess…but…"

"But _what?_" Mustang demanded, quickly losing his patience. Alphonse looked Lieutenant Hawkeye straight in the eye as he spoke his next words:

"You have to promise that you will not turn my brother in."

Mustang gaped at him:

"You're joking, right—"

"Deal," Riza said before the infuriated Brigadier General spat out something he would regret. "But you have to tell us everything. Maybe there's a way we can stop the murders without locking him up…you seem to think there is."

Alphonse rubbed the back of his neck.

"It may be more complicated than that…"

"…Ok," Riza said, sitting down on the sofa and motioning for Alphonse to follow suit. "Why don't you start from the beginning; you said something about a previous murderer…?"

Alphonse sat, letting out a big sigh.

"Yeah, Edward said that there was someone else doing the killing before the night he got attacked, but from that point forward it was Ed doing the attacking himself."

"What happened that night he got attacked?"

"He changed…"

"Well, _obviously_," Mustang said. Alphonse glared at him:

"Not in the way you're thinking, General…you have to believe every word I tell you even though it sounds really weird, ok?"

"Just spit it out!"

"Fine…he was turned into a vampire by his attacker."

There was a pause as the two officers stared at Alphonse, blank expressions on their faces that slowly melded into looks of disbelief.

"You're serious?" Mustang said. Alphonse met his eyes and nodded firmly. Riza thought about it further as Mustang soon followed into a rant about how Alphonse was just taking them on a wild, unnecessary ride and that he was going to end up in prison if he did not tell him what was going on.

_The lack of blood in any of the victims' bodies, the puncture wounds on their jugulars, and all of the murders occurred at night, once the sun had set…_

"…It all fits."

"Exactly!" Alphonse said. "That's what I said, too!"

"Even though it all sounds like a bad horror story, the killer being a vampire would fit perfectly into all of the evidence," Riza explained to her superior officer. "Maybe we really should look further into this idea…"

"But it's ridiculous! Vampires don't exist!" Mustang said in frustration. "We want _real_ facts, Alphonse!"

"Alright then, why don't you come on over to the apartment tomorrow and talk to Edward yourself?" Alphonse demanded.

"No, I'm not falling for this stupid lie, Elric! Enough is—"

"Sir…"

Mustang growled as he turned to face his Lieutenant.

"…We seriously do need to look further into this," she said solemnly, looking over the Flame Alchemist's shoulder at Alphonse. "I agree that it sounds really…far-fetched, but so far, it is the best lead we have…"

She sighed heavily, sitting down onto the couch:

"It's the _only_ lead we have."

"Grumman would want you to, you know," Alphonse pointed out. Mustang glared at him and opened his mouth to protest…but shut it again. Despite the nature of Alphonse's statement, he knew that Grumman would be even more angered if he knew that Mustang did nothing about it whatsoever. After all, he just sent the entirety of Central City into chaos; the least the Brigadier General could do was help him restore it to its former glory.

"…Fine. But I swear to you, Alphonse, if you're taking me on a ride…"

Mustang met his eyes and snapped, watching Alphonse carefully as a handful of flames sparked up within his gloved palm.

"…I will turn both you and Edward in."

…`c.n.`…

"I seriously can't believe this," Mustang was still ranting an hour after the younger Elric left HQ. "I can't believe he's doing this. I can't believe he expects us to believe that…"

He turned on his Lieutenant:

"I can't believe _you_ believe him!"

Riza was silent for a moment, and then looked back at him.

"Don't lie to yourself, sir; you secretly believed him, too."

Mustang rolled his eyes.

"I'm an _alchemist_, Lieutenant, there is no way—"

"You're doing it again."

"Doing _what_ again?"

Riza sighed, crossing her arms and rising from her desk and walking over to where the Brigadier General stood, pacing an indention into the carpet in front of his desk.

"Being close-minded. You did not save this city thinking like that, Roy Mustang, and you won't stop this killer that way either."

Mustang blinked, surprised both at her statement and at the very fact that she called him by his first name—which she never did whilst at HQ. He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair as he looked away from her, from the exhausted looked upon her darkened face, from the bags beneath her eyelids, and from the truth etched across the expression upon her face. Yes, it was true that he was secretly wanting to look much further into Alphonse's statement…however, at the same time, he did not want to know that kind of truth, for if it really was a vampire terrorizing Central, there was no way anyone up at HQ would know how to deal with such a situation.

"…You're right," he said, smirking darkly. "As usual, of course."

Riza also smiled slightly, shaking her head.

"I'm also right in saying this; neither of us are getting any work done while being this exhausted. We'd better just call it a night, sir."

_It's Roy, just call me Roy…_Mustang silently begged, for the sound of his own given name was such a relief to hear after so many hours of being referred to as the saving grace of Central City. _I don't deserve that title right now._

"Yeah," he agreed, looking back at her and frowning. "Looks like we'll have a big day tomorrow."

…`c.n.`…

_I will not murder anymore…I will not allow myself to be possessed by blood—possessed by YOU—anymore._

_**As if you have the choice…Look, there's a treat, right down that alleyway. Go for it—and start at that soft-looking neck of hers…and those succulent cheeks could be delectable as well…**_

_Shut UP. I'M in control tonight! …I've just got to be c-careful…not to drink too much…dammit. How much is too much?_

_**Not helping you there. I don't believe in wasting blood.**_

_It's not a waste if I don't—freaking—FUCK._

…_**You killed her, didn't you?**_

The monster within let out a cold smile that was so powerful in nature that it reflected upon the regretful Edward's blood-speckled face…

…`c.n.`…

Edward tried as hard as he could to wipe off as much of the blood from his face and shirt as possible before returning to the hotel, disgusted in himself for letting the beast win yet again. He almost succeeded in saving his second victim, but barely missed the cut-off point, leaving her pale and shaking as she slowly died an excruciating death of exsanguination in his arms.

He shuddered as he entered the light-filled hotel room, shielding his eyes from the glare.

"Oh, sorry, brother!" Al said, hastily making his way over to the light switch in order to turn it off. "I didn't know what time you'd be back…"

"What are you doing still up at…?" Ed glanced up at the clock:

"…Four in the morning?"

"I kind of have to talk to you," Al said, turning and looking his big brother in the eye. "Mustang and Hawkeye know."

Edward blinked, frowning as he sat down at the edge of his bed.

"Those names sound so familiar…refresh my memory, Al, where do I know them from."

"When you became a State Alchemist—you know, when you were looking for a way to restore our bodies—Brigadier General Roy Mustang was the one who recruited you. You worked for him for a while until you lost your alchemy. Riza is his first Lieutenant, and she never leaves his side. We always got a long really well with the both of them."

Ed narrowed his eyes:

"For some reason I don't think I got along as well as you think with that Mustang guy…"

Al smiled:

"Oh yeah, forgot to mention the fact that you hated him."

Something sparked in Ed's eyes; Al sighed in relief as he nodded in remembrance.

"Anyway, I told them everything because I think they may be able to help us out with…your predicament."

"They believed you when you told them I'm a vampire?" Ed said in total shock. Al pursed his lips:

"Not exactly…they want to meet with you tomorrow, need to talk to you."

"Oh," Ed said, his red-tinted eyes growing wide as he stood from the bed. "Shit."

"I made them swear they wouldn't turn you in, brother, ok?" Al said, putting his hands on Edward's shoulder. He was absolutely desperate to have his brother cooperate with his scheme; he did not have any other ideas on how to spare his brother's life.

Ed looked Al in the eye.

"And you trust them?"

"Yes!" Al said. "You may not remember them or anything about your journey with them, but…" Alphonse sighed heavily: "those two officers are pretty much the reason I'm here, brother."

This struck a nerve in Edward. After all, if these two strangers helped save Alphonse's life—the only thing tying him down to the world—then he at least owed them the truth. Also, once he saw their faces, then perhaps he would be able to remember even more about his human life.

"Alright, Al. If you trust them…"

He looked his little brother in the eye.

"Then I will, too."

"That's all I ask, Ed," Al said, the relief he was feeling evident by the expression on his face. Ed smirked, rolling his eyes.

"I guess that means I have to take a shower now?"

Alphonse observed the vampire's ripped, bloody clothing, his dirt-smudged face and his red-tinted hands and fingernails. His stomach churned as he nodded once, looking forward to finally seeing Ed look like less of a monster and more like the brother he missed more and more with each passing day.

…`c.n.`…

Rain was pouring down so hard the following morning that when Alphonse awakened, he could have sworn it was hail. But alas, the windowsill was soaked rather than shattered; therefore the younger Elric deemed it safe to head out for HQ. When he arrived, he found a rather disgruntled Mustang and Hawkeye.

"We've been waiting," Mustang said, wasting no time in grabbing his and the Lieutenant's coats and heading back out into the storm.

"Sorry, sir; I had a long night last night…"

"Didn't we all."

They did not speak again until they arrived at the Elric's hotel, which was as empty as a tomb. The lights on the first floor had apparently gone out in the time that Alphonse was out due to the storm, the faulty wiring being worked on by a thin man in overalls. Other than him and the man at the front desk, nobody else was in the lobby but the Al, Riza and Mustang.

The hotel room itself was even darker than the lobby. Everyone, upon initially stepping into its gloom, was dead silent…until Mustang crossed the room and opened the blinds.

Edward Elric jolted upright in his bed, hissing violently, baring his fangs threateningly as his reddened eyes pierced through the hair in his face at the sight of Mustang and Hawkeye, who stood in front of Alphonse, gaping in horror at the sight of the newly-warped Edward Elric.

"…Fullmetal?" Mustang said in a low voice laced with disbelief. Edward wrinkled his nose in disgust, flipping his hair out of his face as he growled:

"Don't call me that, Mustang."

"You recognize him now?" Al said, pushing past the officers.

"Yeah," Ed said, still refusing to break his glare away from the Brigadier General's Face. "I remember this asshole."

"W-what happened to you?" Hawkeye asked. "How did you…what made you turn into this?"

Ed closed his eyes and laughed once in mirth.

"So you didn't tell them anything, Al? Thought you'd leave all the talking to me, eh?"

"I figured you'd be able to explain yourself better," Al said, shrugging. "After all, I still don't really understand everything."

"How can I explain something I don't even fucking _remember_?" Ed roared, rising from the bed, still not looking up at any of the three of them. Mustang and Hawkeye glanced at each other, both wondering if visiting the deranged vampire was such a good idea after all. Neither of them had ever seen Edward look so beaten-up, dead-looking…or infuriated.

"We're just looking for the truth, Edward," Mustang explained, trying extremely hard to keep the frustration out of his voice so as to keep from setting the beast off again. "Alphonse told us to meet with you so that we can find out as much as we can about the murders."

"What else do you need to know, _General_," Ed said, mocking the man's title with a hate-filled eye roll. "You already found out that I'm not human anymore—and if this display isn't enough for you then I don't know _what_ would be—and you know that I killed those people. End of story."

"Not exactly."

"Alphonse mentioned that you committed only the second half of the murders," Hawkeye explained. "What the General needs to know is who killed the other people, and at what point did you enter into the murders."

"It's like I told Al, I don't know who attacked and turned me…but I guess pretty much all the murders after the first day I went missing were done by me."

"After you went missing they became much more bloody and gruesome…" Mustang said idly, frowning slightly. Ed grinned evilly:

"Yeah, that sounds about right."

"Not helping you case, brother…" said Al, also frowning. Edward rolled his eyes once again.

"How are they going to help, Al? I don't even know why you brought them here in the first place!"

"You know, I could detain you at this very instant, Elric!" Mustang said suddenly, to which Edward jerked his head up to look at him. In a flash the vampire appeared less than an inch away from the now-startled Brigadier General, a fist ensnared in the fabric of his uniform jacket, his fangs yet again bared in warning.

"…I'd like to see you fucking try."

"Brother, _stop_!"

"Why should I?"

"Dammit, because _I _said so!"

At this everyone in the room froze; even Edward, whose memory was still extremely fuzzy, knew that things were getting to the breaking point whenever Alphonse cursed. Thunder crashed outside; the rain began to fall down harder, and the wind whipped roughly against the thin windowpane of the hotel room. Edward gulped and relinquished the Brigadier General, turning his back on him and running a hand through his hair.

"…...What makes you two think you could help me," the vampire finally spoke in a voice barely above a whisper when he finally thought up the correct, anger-less words to verbalize. Hawkeye bravely pushed past Alphonse and stopped next to Edward, gently placing her cool palm upon his heaving shoulder. Ed glanced at it, standing absolutely still as he felt her heartbeat through the flesh of her hand, felt a small bit of warmth enter into his corpse of a living body through her soft contact.

"We know you, Edward," she said. "And we know you are not a murderer….that's why we're willing to help."

Mustang crossed his arms and leaned against the bed, looking over at the older Elric brother with a look of both questioning and wariness.

"So are you going to work with us or not, Fullmetal?"

Edward looked over at him for a long moment before finally smirking.

"Only if you stop calling me that stupid name."

Mustang returned the smirk:

"Deal; no more Fullmetal Alchemist."

Those words tasted just as sour as they sounded upon Mustangs lips, and he silently hoped immediately after muttering them that he never would have to say something like that ever again.

"Ok," Ed said, walking over to stand next to his little brother. "Let me fill you in on what Al and I previously planned…"

…`c.n.`…

_FEAR RAGES ON AS THE MYSTERY IS LEFT UNSOLVED!_

_MORE VICTIMS=MORE PEOPLE FLEEING THE CITY._

_WHAT EXACTLY IS GOING ON AT HQ?_

_WHERE IS CENTRAL'S SAVING GRACE?_

The headlines only made Führer Grumman more and more frustrated as time passed. Still nothing had changed from the last time he spoke with Brigadier General Mustang, which greatly angered him even more. As his eyes drifted over yet another gruesome headline (_WHO IS NEXT ON THE MURDERER'S LIST?_), he shook his head, knowing that if this case were to be closed once and for all he would have to intercede very soon…

After all, if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.

…`c.n.`…

Alphonse fell asleep on the couch in Mustang's office again, but this time, neither Hawkeye nor Mustang saw fit to awaken him. The entire office was in a state of extreme tiredness after the long night everyone had endured the previous eve. Their exhaustion was unfortunately met with disappointment in themselves as well, for even though they spent so much time reviewing every case, every footnote, they still did not have any leads upon who the murderer was…

Or so they thought that, at least. Neither the Brigadier General nor his Lieutenant were even considering letting anyone else at HQ know about their findings. It would be better for them all to believe Edward Elric was dead rather than guilty…

"…ALPHONSE ELRIC, I MUST SPEAK TO YOU!"

"Ah!" Alphonse shrieked, rolling off of the couch in shock. He shook the sleep out of his head and looked up; sure enough, Major Armstrong was standing before him, his great fists crossed upon his chest, his beady blue eyes peering down at the younger Elric from beyond his moustache.

"Sorry," Al muttered as he stood, rubbing sand out of his eyes. "What is it, Major?"

"There is something…"

He suddenly lowered his voice, looking over at where Mustang sat at his large desk.

"…Something I feel like you should see. But perhaps it'd be better to talk about this out in the hallway."

"Ok…?" Al said, also glancing back at the General before following Armstrong out of the office. Once outside, Al noticed that the Major was holding a sheet of paper within his grasp, and, after he looked back and forth down the hallway to make sure they truly were alone, Armstrong lifted said paper up to show Alphonse.

"…What is this?" the boy demanded. "And why does it have my brother's name on it?"

"It's a suspect list," Armstrong said grimly. Alphonse gaped up at him.

"_What_? But Mustang—he said—how can Ed possibly be a suspect if he's probably _dead_?"

He got the reaction he wanted; apparently his acting skills were pretty decent, for Armstrong had fallen for the broken sounding voice and the angry façade, visibly wincing at Alphonse Elric's words in response.

"I don't know, Alphonse," Armstrong admitted, handing him the paper. Al couldn't tell if it was just him or what, but it seemed like Armstrong was eager to get rid of it, as if it would make him sick just having to touch it. "But what I do know is this; one, the General himself submitted that, and two, that there are now twice as many troops out on the streets today."

"That could be for any reason, though," Alphonse attempted to reason. "I mean, there _were_ two more victims last night as well…"

"I do not know," Armstrong said. "It could be that, or it could be that Grumman and Mustang are taking matters into their own hands…behind your back."

_I doubt that after this morning_, Al thought, but of course he did not dare say that aloud.

"Ok…well…"

He glanced back down at the damning piece of paper in his hands.

"…Thank you, Major."

"Of course," Armstrong said, clearing his throat once before finally saying:

"Let me know if there is anything else I could do to help, Alphonse."

"I will."

_Not likely…_

…`c.n.`…

The wind picked up and turned frosty just past midnight, making Ed have to hold his cloak down over his face to keep it from blowing off, revealing his identity to the night. For once he did not feel as shadowy as the cloak made him appear, however, for after six nights of failures, of almost saving his victim's lives, he had mastered the act of drawing blood without slaughtering completely.

_**And just how long do you think this will last?**_

_Not the point—and I'll __make__ it last, thank you very much._

_**Sure you will…**_

But it seemed to Edward that the voice sounded just a bit less confident than it did before, much to his delight. He stomped up the stairs to the hotel room triumphantly, tossing his cloak down onto the ground before collapsing onto his bed, his thirst quenched for the night, the peaceful drowsiness of a dead man's rest beginning to settle in.

_I may be able to pull this off for you after all, Al._

…`c.n.`…

"Man…when did the temperature drop?"

Alphonse folded his arms against the cold wind whipping against him, mentally cursing himself for not investing in a coat a long time ago. _I could just borrow Ed's, I guess…_ A mental image of the ripped-up, bloodied scrap of material that used to be Ed's coat popped into his mind, and he decided then that he would just have to purchase one of his own later that evening on the way home from HQ.

Al found that everyone was working at a much better rate and was much more awake today than they previously had been, and upon inquiry of the General, he found out why.

"No bodies found last night," he said, leaning back in his chair. "For once."

"That's good though! You know what that means, right?" Al said, speaking in a slightly lower voice. Mustang nodded once, thus leaving the conversation at that…

…Eight hours later, however, after Alphonse had left, Mustang's true thoughts came to haunt him, a slow simmering guilt brewing deep within his chest. _Sure, at least nobody's dead today, _he thought, then closed his eyes away from the dim light of his desk's lamp. _But how can I still justify allowing him to feed off of this city's people? How can I say that it's ok for him to drink an innocent person's blood?_

"Sir?"

Mustang turned back around to face his Lieutenant.

"Sorry, did you say something?"

"Yes…" she said, looking away from him to review what she had written down upon the sheet of paper before her. "Did you see these hospital records Armstrong had?"

"Yeah," he said, frowning. "Do you think those were his victims last night?"

Hawkeye looked surprised at his words, her eyes widened at the fact that he had just outright spoke of the secret behind the serial murders. But then she realized that they were the only two left at the office and relaxed.

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm thinking," she said, placing the note she made within a file folder and then stuck it in a drawer in her desk, locking it immediately after filing it. "This may mean that our plan with Edward and Alphonse has to be reviewed."

"How can we review it? It's not like we can just have the guy drink from people in their hotel," Mustang said frustratingly.

"I know," Hawkeye said in a soft voice, leaning upon her desk tiredly. "I'm out of ideas too…none of us know how to deal with a vampire."

"Except with a stake and garlic," Mustang muttered. Hawkeye frowned:

"Alphonse would never forgive us if we did that and you know it…"

She stood up from her desk and approached Mustang's desk, laying her palms flat against its messy surface:

"…and I know you don't have it in you to kill Edward anyway."

"Please. That kid was nothing but trouble when he was human; I could do it if I needed to—"

"Don't lie to yourself," Hawkeye said, looking him knowingly in the eye. Mustang stood his ground firmly for a long moment before finally looking away, sighing.

"You're right."

"I know I'm right," she said, backing up from his desk and collapsing onto one of the couches.

They sat in silence, neither of them knowing what exactly to say next. The only sounds remaining were the ticking of the big grandfather clock at the front corner of the room and the wind whipping against the windows.

"I can't imagine what Alphonse is going through right now," Riza suddenly spoke in the quiet, shaking her head. "To see his brother turned into that…that monster."

Mustang did not reply to this statement, thought he also felt for the younger Elric. After all those two brothers had been through together and now this happens…it was the worst fate anyone could ask upon someone.

"Was it me," he spoke, looking up from his desk at Riza, "Or did it seem like Edward was having trouble remembering?"

"Remembering what?"

"Everything."

Riza's eyes widened.

"If he doesn't remember his and his brother's journey…oh my god, poor Alphonse."

"Exactly," Mustang said, rising from his desk. "Damn, I need a drink…"

"Like that's going to help anything," Riza muttered, to which Mustang simply shrugged, grabbing his coat from the coatrack and looking out the window. Riza glanced back at the clock and followed Mustang's suit, grabbing her coat and apartment keys from its hook.

"…Are you coming sir?"

Mustang nodded, turning off his light and following Riza first out of the office, then out the front door of HQ, into the chilly dead of night.

"He's out there right now…" Mustang said ominously, looking out and down the dim-lit street, frowning at the thought of the vampire stalking the shadows for his prey.

"Yeah…see you tomorrow, sir."

Mustang blinked, not registering her words for a minute or so…but as soon as he did, he split down the road after her.

"Wait, Riza!"

Hawkeye stopped in surprise at the sound of her own name, turning to face Mustang confusedly.

"…Let me walk you home."

The Lieutenant raised an eyebrow.

"I'm perfectly capable of walking alone, thank you."

"It would make me feel better, though…"

"Roy, I'm armed; if Ed even tried to attack—"

"Please," he said, his black eyes pleading with her. "Just…humor me. _Please_."

Riza stared at him, reading an extra sentence in the sheen of his eyes: _I don't want to risk losing you again…_the memory of that last fight they had before he was threatened with blindness, before she nearly died in his arms flickered through her mind again. For a second she thought she could feel her blood spilling out of her neck and onto her shirt and shoulder once more, its warm existence straining her heart, sickeningly staining her skin…

"…Fine," she said, sighing. "I'll humor you—just for tonight, though."

The General sighed in relief, offering her a small smile of gratitude as he offered her his arm before they set back down the ghostly street.

…`c.n.`…

All was well until the soldier showed up in Edward's territory, bearing flashlights and fully armed. He frowned and fled the alley he was in, only to find himself facing yet another group of military men out searching for him.

_I need to get out of here NOW._

_**You've only drank from two people—that's not nearly enough, you fool.**_

_But if they catch me, the entire plan is at stake. I can't risk that; I can't do that to Alphonse._

_**So you would rather endanger his **__**life?**_

Edward paid no attention to the evil voice speaking these dark words, for he had to find a way back to the hotel. He could see it from his spot on the sidewalk, but he could also see the human traps that HQ had placed for him to fall into. _Who ordered these? Surely not Mustang…?_

He looked back up the alleyway and spotted a fire escape that he could climb up and out of the alleyway via. He grinned to himself, sprinting towards it, determination hitting him hard as he rushed the rooftops, grateful that the moonlight was mediocre in brightness. In no time he was atop the hotel, and to his great luck the rooftop door was unlocked so that he could climb straight into the place. As he descended down to his and his brother's room, however, the voice kept hissing at him, telling him lies…or what he hoped were lies…

…_**You go in that room and your brother is as good as dead. Go ahead, though; that is just fine by me.**_

…`c.n.`…

Edward slumped silently back into the room, tired, stomach growling ravenously. He could literally feel his golden eyes becoming increasingly red-speckled with bloodlust, and he hated it. Exhaustion nearly took over completely as he threw himself onto his bed, turning his face towards the sleeping Alphonse in the separate bed next to him. The smell of his brother's hot blood pumping through his veins drifted across Ed's nostrils, making him shudder with thirst. He purposely jabbed his fang into his lip and lapped up the tiny droplet of blood that beaded up upon the puncture wound in an attempt to control the monster threatening to break free.

_**Come, now, Edward. You're soooo thirsty, aren't you?**_

_Yeah, but there's no way in Hell that I'd hurt Alphonse just to quench it. I've have enough for tonight, I'll get some more tomorrow—_

_**Don't lie to yourself. Don't lie to me. You and I both know that you are painfully unsatiated. You will get no sleep without more blood—**_

_Shut the fuck up, you demon! You have no control over me, no matter how damn thirsty I am. I'm no monster._

_**...Now that's an utter lie and you know it.**_

He did know it. With the fiery burning deep in his throat, with the sleeplessness he could feel taking over despite his exhaustion, with the dark images of him slurping up his brother's life force as if it were a glass of juice being drunk through a bendy straw, he knew it. He felt the monster within his head—within his soul—taking over. In desperation he forced his pillow down upon his head in order to block out the scent of fresh blood. But his senses were becoming increasingly acute. His nose was channeling through all other smells in order to take in the full force of the blood's aroma.

Upon lifting the pillow from his face, his eyes beheld nothing but red, his head throbbing, his mouth bone dry.

_No..._Edward pleaded with the monster within. _No, not Alphonse. Not my little brother...I just got him back-_

_**And you're not going to lose him again, are you? You only need a little more. It's just a bite. Just to sleep.**_

_I won't hurt him! I won't gnaw upon my younger brother like he's a piece of meat!_

_**He's sound asleep, he'll barely feel a thing if you're careful. Best do it now before you go completely berserk. 'Else you'll be more likely to lose control and bleed him dry—**_

_SHUT UP ALREADY. I WON'T DO IT!_

Even as he thought it, though, Ed could feel himself being pulled towards the human, his mind feeling cloudy as the demon began to possess his being. The vampire within was taking control.

_...the fuck is wrong with me...? _

_**Quickly now, before he wakes up.**_

_Not my little brother, not Alphonse..._

_**He'll be fine. He's a big boy. Just keep your head clear.**_

_But wouldn't it hurt him? So thirsty...blood—_

_**KEEP YOUR HEAD CLEAR!**_

Edward couldn't tell at this point which voice was being more rational, the one telling him to hurry up and feed or the one resisting altogether. He gulped as he eased himself onto the bed next to Alphonse. He could feel hot tears stinging his be-speckled blood-red eyes, though he was not coherent enough by this point to precisely know why they were there.

_...you're sure it won't hurt him?_

_**Not so long as you control yourself.**_

_I'm sorry, Al...but I have to...forgive me..._

_**Hurry now; you're losing yourself.**_

Ed's ghostly pallid fingers stroked Al's neck gently, the feel of his pulse upon his fingertips making his hand quake. He removed his hand, covering his mouth with it, swallowing his anguish down painfully. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him to dig in, but what was left of his humanity was still attempting to pull him away from Alphonse before it was too late...No. It was already too late. The young vampire's bloodlust was uncontrollable; to drink was a necessity, but as Ed leaned closer to his brother's neck, he was silent, careful to keep his mind as clear as possible so as not to lose control completely. When Al stirred slightly, Ed froze, blood-specked golden eyes widened in fear. After a moment of complete stone cold silence, though, Ed leaned over Al's neck once again, his tongue caressing the skin over the veins lightly. A chill of excitement ran through Edward's body, and he grazed his brother's neck with his tongue a few more times, not being able to help but feel that such an act was completely natural. Placing a hand gingerly upon Alphonse's cheek, Edward hesitated one last time, his lips hovering over his little brother's jugular...

_**...what are you waiting for?**_

And with that Edward closed his eyes and slowly sunk his fangs into Al's neck. Immediately his dry mouth was flooded with a stream of thick, warm vital fluid. The euphoria Edward experienced as the wondrous taste of it lolled across his tongue was indescribable. His parched throat felt wondrous as he continued to gulp hungrily. He drank slowly, savoring every drop of the precious drink. Alphonse's peaceful face twitched slightly as he slept, and as he moved, Ed's arm shot around his body, holding him almost possessively to his side. A soft, nearly inaudible moan could be heard from Al; Ed opened one of his eyes in curiosity for a moment, then closed it again as he continued to feed. He had officially lost himself in his focus to devour, the occasional moan of unconscious pain he heard coming from a victim rather than his brother. His vampiric senses had completely and utterly taken over...

Until he heard his little brother whimper within his grasp. Edward's eyes shot open in shock.

_No...that sound he's making is wrong...he's in pain...I have to stop. Now!_

_**But you can't stop. It tastes too good. You desire more.**_

_Alphonse is in pain because of me...I have to stop this insanity—!_

"Bro...ther...?"

Edward choked and hastily extracted his fangs, his grip on Alphonse loosening immediately as his eyes popped open in shock. Al yelled in shock, sending Ed toppling off of the bed, blood dripping from his lips.

"Brother? What were you doing...?"

"Don't look at me, Al!"

He ignored this and continued to stare at Edward, his eyes shining in the dimness of the room, the fear within them evident. Edward stared back at his brother in panic as he scooted away from the bed, frantically wiping the blood from his mouth onto his arm, his entire body shaking violently.

"...You're neck..." Edward tried to say, but his voice was gone. He ended up just mouthing the words. Al shook his head slightly, looking at Ed with confusion. Ed gulped, clenching his eyes shut as he growled, low and guttural:

"You're neck, dammit, Al, your n-neck! Cover it up, I can still smell it!"

Alphonse put a hand to his neck, and then lifted it up to his face. Even in the dim, gray light of the early dawn, Al could clearly see that he was bleeding. He turned and gaped at Edward in horror.

"...WHAT—!"

"D-don't look at me! I'm s-sorry, so sorry, I..." Edward sobbed, turning away from his younger brother in anguish as he covered his face with his hands. "I didn't want to hurt you, b-but the bloodlust—it was too much—I-I couldn't control it!"

"Y-you drank m-my blood?" Alphonse asked, his voice barely a whisper due to fright as he replaced his quaking hand over the open wound. "You f-fed from me? While I was sleeping?"

Edward nodded shakily, still not being able to calm himself, unable to face his brother. Alphonse on the other hand felt his face heat up in anger:

"How could you do this to me, Ed?"

"Al, I'm sorry!" Edward wailed, slamming his fists upon the floor. Alphonse felt his heart drop into his stomach when he saw, after Ed lifted his hands, two deep indentions into the concrete. "I l-lost control! I never would've done this to you—"

"But you did do it, Ed! I..."

Al's voice cracked as it trailed off; Edward sniffed, glancing over his shoulder towards his brother, waiting for him to continue. The younger Elric took a deep, shaky breath:

"...I can't believe you would use me like that."

Edward felt as if his soul had just been smashed into a million pieces at that statement. He stiffened as he heard the bed creak, saw Al's feet walk past his crumpled body into the bathroom. Heard the door shut, water running. Ed winced as he heard Al hiss softly in pain as he treated the neck wound. Hot tears streamed down his face once more as he buried his pain in his hands.

…_Oh god. What have I done? And to my little brother...he was all I had left and now he hates me. Oh god, he hates me!_

Meanwhile, in the bathroom, Alphonse looked at his neck with disgust. A dark bruise was beginning to form around the puncture marks, which were still bleeding a bit. He could hear his brother's crying, his words of misery, and he frowned sadly into the mirror._ ...what is this beast my brother has become? _he thought with sorrow as gingerly swiped a damp towel over the wound. Though he was mostly angered and annoyed at being turned into a feast, Al was also very hurt_. I mean, he had the audacity to do it to me when I was asleep!_ he thought yet again, but his conscious was nagging him softly, reminding him that, monster or not, Ed was still out there, crying out for his little brother.

"Alphonse! Please, Al, please forgive me!"

He brought his hand back up to his neck, his eyes shut, the numbing pain of the bite still lingering...

Ed looked up from the floor as the bathroom door slowly opened. He saw the shadowy figure of Al standing in the doorway, his head tilted downwards, his hand still upon his now-bandaged neck. A thick, pregnant moment of silence ensued, the two brothers both contemplating what to say to each other, something that should not have required so much thought. After what seemed like ages, Al sighed and asked his brother in a hoarse voice:

"...Why'd you do it? I thought you had learned to control yourself...?"

Ed winced inwardly at Al's accusing tone, biting his upper lip as he tried to choose the best way to explain to Al his situation.

"...This monster that I've become; I think it's getting stronger. I have a good grip on it—that's why I haven't killed anyone lately—but...I find that I've needed more blood than before in order to function correctly. Tonight I only fed a little off of one person before the authorities got too close for comfort...I was so thirsty when I came back. I...I lost control."

Alphonse blinked, shivering slightly at the thought of his brother's soul being completely taken over by the vampire within. He couldn't bear the thought of his brother becoming uncontrollable, being focused on blood and blood alone. The fact that Edward was so coherent at the moment was a good sign, Al supposed...but even Ed admitted that it wouldn't last long. Even Ed admitted that he had become a monster.

"...Al, I—"

Al raised a hand up to his brother, shaking his head:

"Forget it. Just..."

He sighed exasperatedly, reluctantly lifting his face up to look at Ed, his eyes filled with pain:

"...Just don't lose your humanity, Ed. I don't want to lose my big brother."

"I'm sorry," Ed said once again, a single tear sliding sickeningly down his slickened cheek.

"It's ok, I understand…I forgive you," Al said, trying to smile down at his brother. Ed nervously attempted to smile back in a sheepish manner:

"...So...you don't hate me for what I've done to you?"

Al raised an eyebrow:

"What?"

"I wouldn't blame you if you did. I mean...look at me," Edward said, his eyes traveling up to Al's neck, to where the bandage concealing the bite marks was beginning to leak blood. "...Look at what I just did to you," he finished, his voice cracking slightly.

"Brother, I could never... I could never hate you," Alphonse replied, walking over to where Ed sat and firmly grasping his shoulders as he looked him in the eye. He felt a sudden, sweeping feeling of déjà vu as he spoke these words, remembering another time that he and his big brother had to talk about their non-existent hatred. Al shook his head, wondering why Ed did not understand this all the first time. "You're all I have left. And it's like you said all those years ago when we were out searching for the Philosopher's Stone, when you were a State Alchemist: if we don't take care of each other, then no one else will...I am not going to abandon my brother. Ever. Vampire or not."

In an instant, Edward leapt off of the floor and hugged Alphonse tightly. Al inadvertedly flinched slightly in surprise at the feel of Ed's cold flesh, and then smiled as he hugged his older brother back….

…_It's your fucking nightmare._

...`c.n.`...


	10. Chapter 9

A/N: How about that last chapter? XD Not going to lie, I've had that chapter and this chapter already written for quite some time now and I've just been waiting and waiting to finally post them! :) I'm a happy Kat now…

Anyways, speaking of the previous chapter; some of my peeps on DeviantArt took it upon themselves to make some FANTASTIC fanart for that chapter, which I thought was not only highly flattering but also worth sharing with you fine people of . :) Here's a link to the first one, which is Chapter 8-specific and pretty heart-wrenching in my opinion: art/Carpe-Noctem-Chp-8-Fanart-317777258?

And here's a link to the other one, which suits the quote they utilized in the drawing perfectly: art/Carpe-Noctem-The-Vampire-Curse-318810195

Also, I have a full version of the coverpage used for the story on my personal DA still up, if you haven't checked it out already and are interested in doing so!

Anywho, sorry for the long A/N. Storytime: ENJOY! :))

all things Fullmetal Alchemist (c) Hiromu Arakawa

Carpe Noctem...Seize the Night

Chapter Nine: The Harshness of a Trapped Night

"_I can't feel anything_

_Rage inside is festering_

_You've nailed me to the cross_

_Upon it I will remain…_"

-"The Cross" by Disturbed

…`c.n.`…

The sky was overcast that afternoon, the brisk wind stinging Alphonse's face slightly as he walked through the doors of Central Headquarters, his high-collared shirt accompanied by a loose scarf in order to successfully hide the dark, ominous bruise upon his neck. He took care to keep any signs of suspiciousness from his expression as he greeted several people he knew while walking down to hallways towards the General's office. Taking a deep breath as he approached the large door, he rapped on it twice, his hand shaking quietly as he lowered it from the wood.

"Enter," Mustang's bored voice boomed from behind. Al shut the door behind him and walked over to the couch in front of the General's desk, taking a seat after quickly greeting Mustang, Hawkeye, and Fuery (who was in the room currently working on repairing the most recent security camera that became victim to Mustang's fiery wrath).

"So, what do you have that I can help with today?" Alphonse asked, eager to get his mind off of the early morning's events. Mustang momentarily looked up from the file he was reading and nodded toward a large stack of messy papers sitting at the corner of the desk.

"Sort and put them in chronological order, please."

"'K," Al said, eagerly standing and seizing said papers. As he began to sort the enormous stack, the door flew open and in came a booming Armstrong.

"Good afternoon, Alphonse," the large Major greeted the younger Elric. Al looked up from his stack of papers and smiled:

"Hello Major. How are you today?"

"A bit tired, but other than that doing well. Better than that poor woman we found last night," he said gravely, looking back towards the General. "Did you hear?"

"Reading her file as we speak," Mustang said, lifting a hand to limply wave at the Major. "Central Medical admitted her into the psychiatric hospital late this morning. Apparently she was suffering from serious dementia and becoming delusional."

"Poor woman; that institution is no hospital at all," Armstrong said, shaking his head. "Asylum is more like it."

"Is it that bad of a place?" Al inquired, surprised at Armstrong's harsh words.

"It has a foul history of patient cruelty and horrible treatment plans-" the Major began, but was interrupted by the exasperated General:

"It used to be a lot worse than it is now. There have been major renovations made to their treatments of patients, Major, and I can assure you that Ms. Bronte will be in good hands until she is fully recovered."

Armstrong did not look very convinced at all; Mustang sighed, looking up at the big-hearted man:

"...At least she's not dead like so many other victims are."

This statement hit home; Major Armstrong's eyes clouded over, his hardened expression softening up significantly as he nodded in agreement.

"You are right, General. My apologies...I haven't had much sleep as of late."

"None of us have," Mustang said. Armstrong nodded again as he noted the bags under Mustang, Hawkeye and even Alphonse's eyes. This serial killer was taking a big toll on everybody at Central Command—everybody in Central period. The military knew that the city was in a state of fear, every citizen living in it wondering who will be the next to fall. Armstrong blinked as he watched Al sort through the slowly dwindling stack of papers atop the table in front of him.

"New scarf, Alphonse?" the Major inquired. Al looked up at him and nodded:

"It's really warm, too. Since the weather is becoming colder and colder here with winter settling in and everything, I thought it'd be best to get one so as to prevent illness."

Al had rehearsed this is his mind several times that morning after purchasing said scarf, knowing that at some point during the day _somebody_ was bound to ask about it. It would most definitely be suspicious is he stuttered about an article of clothing.

Brigadier General Mustang, however, was not convinced as much as the Major, hearing it and thinking that it almost sounded _too_ well-rehearsed. He raised an eyebrow at the scarf after Al recited his excuse, wondering if that was exactly what the younger Elric's explanation truly was; simply an excuse. Armstrong was unfazed by it, though:

"That is a good idea; I may have to follow suit and get one soon if it gets much colder."

The Major then looked back towards the General, who was still staring intently at Al's scarf. He blinked himself out of the oblivion, finally acknowledging Armstrong's presence.

"I will bring this to you as soon as I'm done with it," he said, pointing down at the open file in front of him.

"I appreciate that," Armstrong said, saluting himself out of the General's office, his shoulders shaking slightly. Hawkeye watched the door close behind him, her amber eyes shining with pity.

"The Major isn't taking this case lightly. It's really hitting him hard emotionally."

"Yeah, well, Major Armstrong never exactly had a heart of stone," Mustang griped, fisting his hand frustratingly through his hair. He glanced over at the fourth person in the room.

"Fuery."

Fuery looked up quickly at the sound of his name, his glasses tilted slightly to the left.

"Yes sir?" he inquired as he straightened his eyewear.

"Run downstairs and fetch H. Edgar and L. Heinlein's files for me, will you?"

"Of course, right away, sir," Fuery said as he quickly exited the room to do his superior officer's bidding. Al watched him leave, and then looked back at the General, knowing full well that the reason that he sent Fuery out of the room was to discuss Edward.

"I'm not going to be able to keep this facade up much longer, Alphonse," Mustang said, his head in his hands. Al sighed, looking down into his lap:

"I know. Brother and I really are trying to figure out how to do this, but...he can only control his thirst for so long."

Hawkeye sat down upon the couch across from where Al sat, crossing her legs and looking at Al intently.

"I thought you said he already had it under control by now. What happened?" she asked.

"Nothing; he has it under control to the point that he no longer kills every time he feeds, which I thought was the major issue."

"He's still leaving a massive blood trail," Mustang said, looking up from his hands. "Nearly all of his living victims are still hospitalized. You just heard about this girl he fed from last night; she ended up in the mental institution."

"I don't understand why, though. If he only took a little blood from each person, how are they all so badly affected by it?" Al said confusedly.

"It has got to be a really traumatizing experience for his victims," Hawkeye said severely, her eyes downcast. Al gulped, also looking down to the floor his eyes, desperately trying not to compare himself to all of the other people Edward fed off of._ I mean, I'm not one of them, right?_ he thought to himself all, he was sane enough to be there at Central Command the following day, talking coherently and everything...

"Maybe we can get him to feed of off animals or something, so that he's not attacking more people every night," Al suggested.

"Yeah, just what we need; all of Central reporting that their cats are disappearing left and right," Mustang retorted. Alphonse suddenly did not like his animal idea so much, his golden eyes widening in horror at the thought of all the kitties that would get hurt.

"Too bad there isn't a forest on the outskirts of town. There would plenty of things for Ed to hunt there," Hawkeye said, thinking out loud. Mustang vaguely nodded in agreement as he continued to rack his brain desperately for an idea.

"We can buy blood from the local blood bank for brother to drink," Al suggested.

"No; that'll get really expensive really fast," Mustang shot down the idea immediately; it was bad enough that he was risking his military career for the elder Elric. He was not about to let his wallet suffer as well.

Hawkeye sighed in defeat:

"...We may just have to revert back to square one, sir. We can't hide Edward forever. We'll just have to figure out a way to explain the situation to the Fuhrer."

"No!" Al protested quickly. "You can't tell the Fuhrer! _Please_ don't...they'll lock him up, I know they will."

"Al's right," Mustang said. "Grumman is not going to just sit back and let some vampire—this threat to the people—run loose. Even if it is the former Fullmetal Alchemist."

"Hey," Al spoke, his voice slightly raised. "I don't appreciate you calling my brother an 'it,' sir."

"What do you suppose I call him then, Al?"

"You can call him by his _name_, like you always have! Just because this happened to him, doesn't automatically make him a…a—"

"Monster."

"That's not what I was about to say—!"

"Don't lie to yourself, Alphonse—"

"Ok, that's enough; this is getting nowhere," Hawkeye interjected, looking squarely into the General's face for a moment before turning and nodding at Al:

"You're probably right about how the Fuhrer would handle such a situation. We'll just have to continue to try and figure this one out ourselves."

Al nodded, and then exhaled in relief, his heart racing after the fright he had just suffered from. His scarf slipped off of his shoulder a bit as he slumped back against the couch; Mustang's eyes flitted to the high collar of his shirt, his pupils narrowed with suspicion...

"...Alphonse."

"Hmm?" Al looked up at the General, who motioned for him to approach the desk. Al blinked, and then slowly got up from the couch to stand in front of Mustang, his pounding heartbeat racing once more. Mustang studied his neck again from where he sat, looking carefully at the light trails his blue veins made as they trailed down under the skin. He extended a hand out to Al, and the young Elric's breath caught as the General lifted his collar and scarf out of the way so that he could clearly see the dark bruise underneath. Al closed his eyes in a feeble attempt to not look into Mustang's flaming expression.

"...He fed from you."

It wasn't a question. It did not require a response from Alphonse. Yet the General's dark, piercing eyes glared into Al's scared golden irises in expectation, forcing him to nod once in confirmation. Hawkeye's eyes widened as she watched the exchange from afar; _no...no, Edward wouldn't do this to his own brother...would he?_

Mustang snatched his hand away from Al's collar:

"You _let_ him?" he demanded, his voice shaking. Al closed his eyes for a moment:

"...H-he did it while I was asleep, sir."

"He attacked you in your _sleep_?!"

Mustang's voice was definitely raised now, and his rage was scaring Alphonse. The poor boy stumbled a step away from the infuriated Brigadier General's desk and quickly defended himself and his brother:

"He came back to the m-motel thirsty! He said that there were too many soldiers out, that he couldn't drink enough because of the risk of getting caught!"

Mustang froze for a moment after hearing this news. Fuhrer Grumman has ordered troops to patrol Central during the night? Grumman ordered this behind his Brigadier General's back, Mustang was completely unaware of his intentions. He slowly stood up from his desk, pacing slowly as he took in the information that Alphonse had given him.

While the General was momentarily under control, Hawkeye took the chance to rise from the couch and observe Al's neck for herself.

"Are you ok?" she asked, first worried about his health overall. Al nodded, attempting to give the Lieutenant a small smile:

"I didn't find it to be a really traumatizing experience."

She looked under the collar, then inquired:

"Where are the bite marks?"

"His saliva makes them disappear," Al explained quietly, his cheeks pinking slightly as the memory of his brother licking his neck clean last night came back to him. Hawkeye blinked in surprise at this:

"That explains why there are no bite marks on any of the victim's necks, either."

Alphonse nodded, then froze; was he betraying his brother by giving the military so much information? Did he even have a choice?

Mustang suddenly stopped pacing:

"If what you said is true, Al, and Grumman really has ordered troops to guard the streets at night, then Ed can't go out and hunt anymore."

"But then how will he get blood?" Al asked concernedly. Mustang thought for a moment longer, then answered:

"Although the blood bank would cost money to get blood from, the butcher shops wouldn't. Or they at least wouldn't cost nearly as much. We can have you two stock up on animal blood and Ed can just live off of that until we figure out how to get the Fuhrer to order the troops off."

Al nodded, knowing that Ed probably wouldn't like the idea of living off of animal blood. But he also knew that his brother would do whatever it took to stay out of prison and with Alphonse.

The door opened:

"Here are the files you asked for, sir!" Fuery said, hurriedly running over to where Mustang stood. Mustang took the files from him and then asked him to get him some tea in order to buy some more time for the three of them to talk. As soon as his subordinate was out of earshot, Mustang turned back towards Alphonse:

"...You'll have to stay in and keep an eye on him at night, to make sure he doesn't try to sneak out."

"Right, I figured as much," Al said, smiling sheepishly. "I don't usually go out at night anyways."

Hawkeye pursed her lips concernedly:

"Be careful around Ed, though, Alphonse. We don't know what will happen when he has to live without human blood; he could quickly become very dangerous."

"Don't worry about me, Lieutenant!" Al replied cheerfully. "Brother wouldn't hurt me."

Hawkeye and Mustang's eyes traveled down to Al's bruised neck; _he already has_, they both thought sadly.

...`c.n.`...

Dusk was just barely beginning to fade into the darkness when Brigadier General Mustang dropped Alphonse off at his motel at the end of that day. It was earlier than the both of them were used to leaving HQ, however today it was a necessity; they had to stop by one of the local butcher shops that afternoon to pick up Edward's blood. The butcher had happily given them an extremely good price, no questions asked, thus they simply hoped that the young vampire would be just as amiable and understanding of the situation…though Alphonse highly doubted that would be the case.

Thus, the General trudged up the stairs with the younger Elric, his hands full with a few of the paper bags full of the half-gallon plastic containers.

They found the vampire still sound asleep when they silently entered the hotel room, as expected this early in the eve. Al and Mustang set the animal blood down by the bathroom door, then stood and looked back at one another.

"I hope he'll drink it…" Al whispered, pursing his lips as he glanced over at the still form of the sleeping beast. Mustang looked at al concernedly:

"Are you sure you'll be…safe staying here? I can stay with Ed during the night in your stead if you are no longer comfortable here with him."

"Why wouldn't I be comfortable rooming with my own _brother_?" Al hissed defensively.

"He _fed_ from you in you sleep!" Mustang hissed back, his frown of disapproval evident. "I can't have him be discovered, Alphonse, and if he drinks from you again—and if that damned bruise gets _discovered_—"

"Look, General, you're _concern_ in touching," Al replied, sarcastically emphasizing 'concern' to point out Mustang's lack thereof. "However, Ed swore that would never happen again. And I trust him. On top of that, he'll have all this blood here to drink from; why would he need me anymore?"

Al blinked suddenly, quickly closing his mouth, his last sentence replaying over and over again, tormenting his mind. Though he had molded his speaking tone into one of confidence, Alphonse made a mental pact to himself that tonight would be the test; if he awoke to Ed's fangs once again then he would take Mustang up on his offer…even if Ed was his brother. He justified this decision with the fact that the brigadier General would suffer as well if Ed got caught, even if he was on good terms with the Führer.

"…If you say so. But so help me, Alphonse, if you walk into my office tomorrow morning and that godforsaken bruise is even worse off than it is now, I will personally pull you out of this hotel myself."

"So General Bastard found out, did he?"

Mustang started at the dark voice behind him, leaping in startled shock. He turned and glared at the culprit; the vampire had risen.

"Sorry we woke you, brother," Al said apologetically. Ed rubbed his reddened eyes, shrugging:

"It's alright; I was planning on getting up early anyway. I thought that maybe there'd be less military personnel out at an earlier time."

Mustang and Alphonse looked at each other, and then sighed. Ed lifted an eyebrow as Mustang spoke:

"…Given what has happened, with soldiers out patrolling at night on the Führer's orders, I cannot allow you to go out and hunt anymore."

"You can't _allow_ me?" Ed said scathingly. "Last I checked, Mustang, I'm no longer one of your subordinates—"

"But as a threat to the country of Amestris you are under complete and utter jurisdiction of the military. You either do as I say or you _will_ get taken in."

"Is that a _threat_?" Edward growled, crossing the space in between him and the Brigadier General, his red eyes frozen in an unblinking glare. Mustang did not flinch and held his glare sternly against the beast's as he asked his next dark question in a solemn tone of voice:

"Do you really want to put you're younger brother through the agony of watching you be sentenced to death, Edward?"

Alphonse could not stifle his gasp of horror; Edward heard it, and his hungry eyes shifted to look his brother in the face. They locked eyes, Al silently pleading with Ed to cooperate with Mustang. Ed could clearly see the pain in the golden orbs of his brother's eyes—excruciating emotional pain. The vampire sighed, breaking eye contact with Mustang as he nodded in reluctant agreement.

"So what are your terms, General?" he asked as he turned his back on the officer. "How do you expect me to keep my thirst in check without hunting, hmm?"

Mustang crossed his arms amusedly at the boy, nodding towards the paper bags he and Alphonse brought in:

"Do you honestly think I'm so unprepared? In those bags are gallons of animal blood for you to drink."

"We're hoping that if you can survive on animal blood alone for long enough, then Führer Grumman will call off the night troops and eventually this case will be closed if there are no more re-occurrences in the next three months…" Al paused and looked at Mustang. "Three months is right, right?"

"Yes, that's the Amestrian policy; if we are provided no more reason to pursue a case after three full months of no action, then we're forced to close it."

Ed glanced at the animal blood, lifting his face up and sniffing in its scent through the air. He scrunched his face up:

"It smells gross," he complained. Mustang's expression was unwavering, and eventually Ed folded, remembering Al's pain when the thought of Ed's persecution was brought up.

"…No longer than three months."

"Agreed," Mustang said, nodding once in approval. He exhaled in relief, turning once more towards Alphonse:

"I will need someone to watch him at night and make sure he doesn't sneak out…"

Alphonse narrowed his eyes at the General, knowing exactly where he was going with saying these words.

"…Remember what I told you, Alphonse. If you don't feel comfortable staying here—"

"Shut up."

Both Mustang and Edward looked quite taken aback at the enraged look on the usually-kindhearted Alphonse's face. His eyes blazed in fury as he growled:

"Bastard; I already told you. I'm _staying_."

"And I already told you—"

"It doesn't matter! That doesn't matter to me! Ed is my brother; I am _not_ going to abandon him—!"

"Al."

The infuriated young Elric turned his head towards the sound of his brother's trembling voice.

"…Be honest, Al. Remember…remember what happened last night?"

Mustang stood back and watched the scene before him unfold. Alphonse's rage towards the General deflated significantly as he found himself suddenly aware of the violent bruise on his neck. Ed saw a brief glint of fear strike his brother's pupils as his throat began to burn at the memory of Al's hot, fresh blood…

_No. Focus_.

"Do you remember?" Ed repeated, waiting for an answer.

Al inadvertently lifted a hand to his neck, his fingers lightly brushing the still-tender spot. The young Elric managed to nod once before averting his eyes down to the floorboards, away from his brother. Ed—though he did feel horribly anguished for causing this evident fear to blossom within his baby brother—was glad that he was able to get his point across. Al needed to think past the fact that Ed's his brother and be able to fully understand the danger he was putting himself in.

"…Al, you need to be honest; are you going to be able to live with me after that? Or has your fear become too great to overcome?"

Ed heard Al mutter something about him not being afraid and he growled.

"Don't lie to us, Al—heck, don't lie to yourself! I know my memory's fuzzy, but I can still tell when my little brother is scared!"

Alphonse stared at him, hurt in his gold eyes; he sighed heavily and looked away.

"You promised never to feed off of me again…" Ed heard the younger Elric mutter almost inaudibly. He sighed heavily in response:

"That was before I found out about the whole blood scheme. I don't know what I'll be like without human blood. I…I don't want to hurt you again. I just don't _know_, though, Al. I can't bring myself to make that promise again…because I don't know if the beast will win again."

_Speaking of—!_

_**Well hello there.**_

Ed gulped and turned to face away from Mustang and Alphonse, gritting his teeth together frustratingly, shutting his eyes against the burning red tint infesting his formerly golden irises.

_Go away!_

_**Never.**_

"Ed?"

The vampire blinked, his twitching expression fixated upon the floor. He was scared to look back at Al; the bloodlust was painfully evident upon his face, and when he turned back to look at Al, he saw the younger Elric take a hesitant step back. His crimson speckled-eyes were shining ravenously—or at least they seemed to be by what Al could see of them. In the time that the three of them had been confronting one another, the last rays of daylight had finally dipped below the horizon line, signifying the beginning of the night. Ed silently struggled to remain in control of his thirst as he waited for Alphonse's decision. Mustang took a step closer to the younger Elric, his untrusting expression nailed to Edward's sickening eyes. Ed saw this and growled softly.

_I'm__ the one that should be protecting my brother…_

Without even fully comprehending what he was doing, Ed found himself determinedly walking past Mustang and Alphonse, towards the gallons of animal blood they had brought for him to sate himself with. Plugging he nose, he flipped the cap off of one of the full plastic bottles and lifted the jug up to his chapped lips. He hesitantly sipped it a bit at first, tasting it; after finding it to be not nearly as nauseatingly revolting as it smelled, he took in bigger gulps of the lukewarm liquid, chugging down the entire half-gallon container's contents. Though Ed found it to be not nearly as satisfying as fresh human blood, he managed to calm the burning in his throat a bit with it. As he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, he winced inwardly, wishing that Al didn't have to see that display of bloodthirstiness.

"Well?" Mustang demanded. Ed recapped the empty bottle as he turned to face the General.

"It's not as…tasty as human blood but it'll suffice, I guess."

"How long do you expect that stash to last?"

"I have no idea, not very long," the vampire said, frowning down at the empty container in his hand. "This wasn't nearly enough to satisfy, I'll still need more for tonight."

"Don't drink more than necessary."

"Duh," Ed said, tossing the bottle to the ground and looking back at Al, who was relieved to see that a significant amount of redness had left his older brother's eyes. "So what's the plan, Al?"

"I'm staying," Alphonse said without hesitation. Ed blinked and hesitantly smiled slightly at his brother, but his eyes still asked: _are you sure you're not too scared of me, little brother?_

"It's like I said, I trust you, Ed. I've already forgiven you for last night; I'm not going to hold that against you. And no, you don't scare me. You're just my brother, after all. I don't see the monster you see."

Ed's smile grew with Al's last sentence, the tips of his elongated fangs peeking out slightly. The young Elric was not fazed by this, though.

"Thanks for that, Al," Ed said gratefully, smirking at Mustang. The General's frown deepened when he saw this, and he spoke with a firm, strict voice:

"Just stay out of the streets. Or else."

He and the vampire locked eyes, their distaste for one another growing once again as a deep growled rumbled in Edward's throat. Al quickly stepped between them, clearing his throat and saying to the General:

"I'll walk you out, sir."

"No you won't; you have to watch this beast and make sure he doesn't sneak out, remember?"

"shut the hell up, Mustang," Ed said, rolling his eyes. He shoved a hand into his pocket and extracted a small silver key, tossing it to Alphonse. "I'm not going anywhere, dammit, I already agreed to that!"

"You better not!" Mustang barked before storming out the door. Alphonse glanced back at Edward with an apologetic look and followed the General out the door.

…`c.n.`…

"You're making a mistake, Alphonse!"

"No, I don't think I am," Al said coolly as he defiantly crossed his arms. The two of them were walking down the hall towards the stairway, arguing back and forth the entire way. Truth be told, Al would not have trusted Mustang to stay with Ed that evening anyway, let alone trusted Ed to keep from killing the Brigadier General after all of the anger and frustration the two of them were displaying. After going back and forth a few more times and finding themselves in the front lobby, standing before a confused nighttime manager at the front desk, Mustang finally sighed in defeat, looking out the door and into the chilly night forlornly.

"…Just remember what I said. That bruise better not be bigger in the morning," he said in a hushed tone so as to prevent eavesdropping.

"Goodnight, General," Al said, sighing in relief once Mustang walked out and left Al and Ed be for the night.

Upon re-entering their hotel room, Alphonse could see nothing but darkness, yet when he did turn on the light, Edward was nowhere to be found.

"…Ed?"

A wave of fear shot through him for a moment, but just as the younger Elric was about to call out for his brother, the vampire shot up from behind one of the beds, making Alphonse jump about a foot in the air.

"Got you!"

"Not funny!" Al said, breathing heavily due to fright. Ed's sharp-toothed grin faltered immediately.

"Hey, I'm here; don't worry, I'm not going to sneak out, Al," he said, meeting his brothers eyes for a moment before strolling over to the window and yanking open the curtains with a single swift flick of the wrist. As he pulled his loose, dirty hair back into a loose ponytail, he looked out the window and spoke to Al:

"So how did Brigadier General Bastard find out? Did you not have the bruise covered up well enough?"

"I did," Al said, holding up his scarf. "He guessed and I confessed…he's become extremely observant, unfortunately."

"Yeah," Ed said, frowning into the moonlight. "Who else knows?"

"Just the Lieutenant General; she was really concerned, too."

Ed grew silent as these words sunk in. Of course Hawkeye was going to worry about Alphonse, and really Ed knew that deep down Mustang was worried about the young Elric's well-being as well. It made him sick to his stomach to know that he was a health risk to his own brother, and he really hated himself for that. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to ignore the memory nagging at his mind, brought on by the beast, no doubt about it. He shook his head, trying to shake off the image of Alphonse body in his arms, his fangs stuck down deep into the smooth skin of the boy's throat, his sleeping body limp in Edward's arms, shaking with the ecstasy of drinking in his sweet, fresh blood…

"…You're sure no one else knows?" he double-checked with Alphonse, opening his eyes back up to the accusatory stare of the smoky moon.

"Yes," Alphonse said, sitting at the edge of his bed.

"Ok…ok. Good."

"Brother?"

Edward looked over his shoulder:

"Yeah?"

Alphonse was silent for a moment as he stood and walked over to where his big brother stood, joining him and also standing within the moon's beams.

"Are you mad at me for telling them?"

Ed stared into Al's eyes:

"Of course not! I was kind of expecting _someone_ at headquarters to find out; not all military personnel are complete idiots…"

He hesitated, then gently placed a hand upon Al's shoulder.

"You don't need to be constantly trying to protect me, Al. Hell, I'm the one supposed to be protecting you! If Mustang demands info you give it to him. I can't ask you to break a promise to the military just on my account."

Al nodded once, offering Ed the smallest of smiles before yawning hugely, suddenly realizing his exhaustion. Upon observing this, Ed shoved Al towards his bed on the other side of the room.

"Go to sleep."

"I can't," Al said with a sigh. "I was told to monitor you during the night, remember?"

"I'm not going anywhere, Al, I swear! You can trust me on this one thing. _You_ need to _sleep_."

Alphonse was still visibly unsure as he looked into his brother's eyes, which were still red-tinted even after going through an entire container of blood. Ed sighed heavily in reply; he stomped over to the door and locked it twice, taking Al's room key from the bedside table and shoving it under Al's pillow.

"There," Ed said, looking back at his little brother. "And I gave you mine already, right?"

"Right."

"_Now sleep_."

Al frowned but nodded once:

"…fine. You better not sneak out, Ed."

Ed sighed once more, turning away from Al and looking back at the moon.

"I know," he said. "I promise. After all I've done to you, that's the least I could do."

The vampire stood as still as stone while he listened to his brother's breathing slow into a soft, slow slumber, crossing his arms as he tried not to breathe, still scared of what he could possibly do to Alphonse, even after drinking his fill.

_**That was not your fill. That was nothing like what you lust for, what your undead body craves.**_

_Well, you had better get used to it, 'cause that's all you're getting from now on._

_**This won't last long; my hold upon your soul grows stronger yet…**_

…_Not as long as Al is here it doesn't._

_**And how much longer do you think he will last with you, hmm?**_

_How much longer…?_

And yet Edward found himself at a loss for words, unable to conjure up a good reply to the monster's words. It was right, he was now the biggest threat to his brother's life, bringing forth more danger than the young Elric boy could ever have imagined.

He looked back at the sleeping boy, whose head was turned away from Edward, therefore showing the bruise the vampire had caused from his feeding the night before. Edward did not dare approach his brother's bed, however, for his trust in himself had completely dissipated after the previous eve, after the beast infecting his walking corpse of a body was able to take over for once, rather than the little speck of good inside fighting valiantly. He shook his head, clearing the image of him losing his humanity from his mind in desperation. He refused to ever allow that to happen, for the day that he completely gives into the night will also be when Alphonse Elric dies…Edward had already almost lost his brother once. He was not about to risk losing him again. He would rather be chained to the wall in their hotel room for the rest of his afterlife than risk killing his little brother again.

_You've nailed me to the cross_

_Upon it I will remain…_

…`c.n.`…


	11. Chapter 10

A/N: Sorry for the later update! One word: college. It's kicking my butt. :P Anywho, enjoy, even though this one is kind of more a giant transition chapter; I promise the plot kicks back up in chapter eleven!

all things Fullmetal Alchemist (c) Hiromu Arakawa

Carpe Noctem...Seize the Night

Chapter Ten: Stolen Redemption

"_Shaking, burning up with the fever_

_In the realm of pain, I am the deceiver_

_Now I lie to myself, so I can believe her_

_As [it] disassembles my life_

_I cannot dispel the illusion_

_All my hopes and dreams are drowned by confusion_

_Can I find a way to make a solution that will reconfigure my life…?_

…_I have fallen again_

_This is the end_

_Pain redefined."_

-"Pain Redefined" by Disturbed

…`c.n.`…

"…Detective Grahnger?"

Grahnger slurped up a stifling hot gulp of black coffee as he glanced up to see who was calling for him this time? His number one assistant looked expectantly at him, meaning that he should probably get up and see what exactly he wanted, despite how exhausted and lazy he was feeling at that particular moment. The monotonous work of deciphering empty evidence after empty evidence for this stupid serial murderer was making his job a living hell, for whenever the people of his office could find nothing, there truly was no hope for anyone at Central Command to be any good.

His assistant held up a small plastic bag filled only with a long, light-colored hair.

"I know we did not get any DNA results from this, but look closer for a moment."

Grahnger stared at him, making the young man gulp.

"Please. I have a point, I promise."

"Fine," Grahnger sighed heavily as he snatched the bag up. "I'll humor you."

"Great. Well, I was looking over some of the photos, and I noticed that one person we had photographed at the scene of the crime has hair that looked remarkably similar to that…"

Grahnger shifted his stare from the hair in the baggie to the photograph in his assistant's hand.

"…who does that look like it belongs to, hmm? Who do we know with long, golden blonde hair, Detective?"

"…You're right. It certainly does look like Edward Elric's."

…`c.n.`…

Alphonse awoke feeling as if he never did get to sleep, even though the clock before him clearly read a time about six hours later than the time it read before. He felt like just closing his eyes and attempting to fall back asleep, as he did numerous times periodically throughout the night, but knew that at this point he could not. He needed to hurry up and get to Central HQ before Mustang came thundering in and woke Edward up in the process. The last thing he wanted to deal with when he was this exhausted was an enraged vampire…

Idly, he felt the side of his neck. Other than the still-healing bruise from the other night, it was generally unscathed, which meant that Edward had kept his promise. So far.

He had survived yet another night with the vampiric beast that consumes his brother's soul…

…`c.n.`…

No matter how crisis-filled Central had become in the past month and a half, Brigadier General Mustang and Führer Grumman never did see fit to stop their chess games on account of the murders. Grumman continuously stated every time Mustang tried to back out that if they continued to force life to spin on, then perhaps the presence of death will eventually lose its place in the city. Mustang could not see any way of disagreeing with him since he was the Führer, of course, but he also was secretly glad he still had at least one excuse to take a break from work.

"Check," Grumman said, smiling beneath his moustache. Mustang frowned slightly, and then smiled a split second later as he figured out what to do to counter his situation. He obediently moved his king out of the way, still smiling as he watched Grumman move his rook once again, preparing to check Mustang's king yet again. However, before he could so much as smile, Mustang's last bishop came out of nowhere and took Grumman's rook.

"Now, how did I not see that coming?" Grumman said coolly—a little too coolly for Mustang's liking. Before he knew it, Mustang had his lucky bishop taken up and was placed back in check by Grumman's knight.

"Damn," Mustang cursed under his breath, his smile dissipating on the spot. "And I thought I had you this time!"

"Hahah!" Grumman laughed successfully, leaning back in his chair. "Better luck next time."

"If there is a next time," Mustang retorted. "Who wants to play against somebody who wins all of the time?"

"Someone aiming to be better," Grumman replied wisely, winking at Mustang from behind his spectacles. Mustang also leaned back in his seat, unable to find any way to disagree with the Führer's words. That was the wonderful thing about Grumman; no matter how dark the situation became, he always managed to look on the bright side of things and to think positively and rationally. And he never did let his demeanor suffer. No matter what, he remained his cheerful, chess-masterful self.

"Well," the Führer stated, his smile faltering slightly as he glanced up at the clock upon the wall over his desk. "I supposed it's time for us to return to our duties."

"Yeah," Mustang said, standing and stuffing a hand in his pocket. "You're probably right."

"I know I'm right," Grumman said, looking Mustang squarely in the eye. "I'm an old man, General, but not that old. I'm tired of seeing all this premature death throughout the city."

"As am I."

Even as he said that, however—even as he exited Grumman's office—Mustang could not help but think of Edward, the killer himself, sleeping idly in his and his brother's hotel room, and right under the Führer's nose.

Grumman shut the door behind Mustang, raised an eyebrow at the doorknob for a moment, and then spun quickly around. He faced only the other, empty half of the room. A sigh of relief escaped his lips, though he did not know why he had suddenly felt so paranoid. He could not help it, though, for it truly did feel like somebody was watching his every move from behind, from deep within some unknown shadow...

But that was a ridiculous notion, of course. Grumman disregarded his paranoid thoughts with a soft chuckle as he sat back down behind his desk, content to finish the day's work to the best of his ability, for his city's sake.

…`c.n.`…

_**You think this is some kind of a game of strategy, which, I suppose, would have been the kind of game you were good at, being of the intellectual background you were once of. However, this is not a game; nor is it a battle of wills. Willpower has nothing to do with me remaining silent whilst you continue this pointless charade, while you insist upon starving yourself of the tasteful death that your undead body now craves. You will succumb to it, for it is even beyond my own control. Not that I would be opposed to such a loss of control in the first place.**_

_**I liked it better when I was in charge—as did you yourself, I know it. I remember your thoughts that first night after you turned, your sheer lust and desire. I remember when you said that 'the vampiric curse was a **_**gift**_**, something far greater to behold than redemption.' You will fade back into those thoughts, for you still believe them to be true, no matter how much the sliver of what remains of your human soul may disagree. Edward Elric the human is a powerless ghost; Edward Elric the vampire is and forevermore will be the one in charge of this body, this vessel...regardless of his former brother's pestering existence. After all, that is a mark easily removed, a spot of light that shall be easy to extinguish in this world of unrelenting darkness you now exist in…**_

_**You know this to be true, too; you know that you yourself have dreamt many times about how wonderful it would be, just to be free from such a bind. You would be finally released into the night, and all of its dark glory. But while he still exists, he will continuously bring you down, appealing to your weak, formerly human self, the part of you that is now useless for it is dead. You are truly dead; I am the only living soul that lies incarcerated in this shell of a human body. **_

_**Just imagine the sheer feeling of freedom you will finally gain once you finally kill off that piece of meat. You know, deep down inside, how much you truly lust for his blood, how much you truly long to dig your fangs into that tick neck of his, licking up pieces of his shredded veins and arteries as you gorge yourself with his sweet, crimson blood—**_

"Shit!" Ed yelled, wrenching himself out of his stupor, his reddened eyes widened in horror. It was not a dream, for his corpse of a body could no longer spurn forth dreams or nightmares of any sort; the voice he heard actually existed, and it was completely right. His bloodlust—particularly, his lust for Alphonse's blood—has progressed to a dangerous level. It was only a matter of time until the beasts monologue came true.

_I have to get out of here before Alphonse gets himself killed—_

_**You cannot escape. You have officially placed yourself in a position in which redemption is no longer an option.**_

Ed sighed heavily, knowing full well that the monster was right and wishing with every fiber of what was left of his being that it was lying once more.

…`c.n.`…

Night had fallen, but as usual, neither the Brigadier General nor his First Lieutenant had any plans to go home any time soon. Neither of them had gotten very much sleep since learning of Edward Elric's new vampiric self…but Riza especially found herself suffering in the night. Guilt had protruded into her nightmares, for not only is she guilty of lying to the military she so dutifully sworn her life and dedication to, but also, she felt that she in part was guilty of causing Edward to be attacked and turned in the first place. After all, she did support his illegal nightly hunting for the previous killer, the one that condemned him to an afterlife as a vampire. She even supplied him with a weapon to kill, a gun that did more damage to himself than the killer.

"Are you all right, Lieutenant?"

Riza blinked once and looked up at her superior officer, who was looking upon her with concern from where he stood behind his desk. Riza sighed and nodded once, to which Mustang's frown simply deepened.

"I'm fine," she protested, to which the General shook his head.

"I can tell when something is bothering you."

"What difference does it make?" Riza said, her obvious tiredness making her slightly irritable. "Everyone here has something bothering them. If they don't then there is something wrong with their minds."

She leaned back in her chair, sighing once again as she spoke what had been on her mind the entire day:

"This is my entire fault. Edward got turned into that monster because of what I did to help him hunt down a killer that we all knew was much stronger than him…I'm the one to blame."

Mustang listened carefully to Riza's lament, and then exhaled as he approached her desk, placing a palm down upon its mahogany surface.

"You and I both know Edward would have gone out there with or without your help. Whether or not he is a kid anymore does not matter because of his stubbornness; he would have gotten himself turned one way or another."

"But that does not make what I did right," Lieutenant pointed out. Mustang stood up straight, looking down at her with a mixed expression of pity and curiosity.

"On the contrary, it makes your intentions more honorable, the fact that you wanted so badly to get to the truth of the case and wanted to support Ed's fiery determination. You have no idea it would turn out the way it did—none of us did, what with the way Ed has always been so good at fighting and what-not."

Hawkeye still saw quite a few gaps in her superior officer's explanation, but she did not want to argue with him. Not tonight; death was too close to their door, and she was far too exhausted to put up a good enough case, even against Mustang's weak explanation.

"We should head home," Mustang muttered, looking back behind him at the clock. "It's getting late."

"It's been late," Riza said, yawning hugely as she stood from her seat and made to organize the papers on the desktop. Mustang watched her do so, observing her delicate-looking hands as they gripped the stacks of files and police reports, placing and replacing them each one-by-one in their proper place.

"…Maybe you should stay with me tonight," Mustang spoke in a slightly softer voice, even though they were the only two left in the office at that time. "I mean, you know…just so you don't have to be alone."

Riza looked up in surprise at such a sudden and unexpected offer. What exactly was the Brigadier General thinking?

"Don't look at me like that," he snapped in response to the expression on her face. "I'm concerned is all; it's far more dangerous to be alone at a time like this. And I've told you before, Riza…I'm not about to risk losing you again."

"Edward's locked up in his hotel room with Alphonse, he's not going anywhere tonight. I'm perfectly fine—"

"Who's to say the old killer won't come back?"

Riza remained silent, for she had of course considered such a thing already. But she had not deemed that a necessary concern. Not yet, at least.

"…I have told you many times before, sir, that I am more than capable of protecting myself. On top of that I do have Black Hayate to protect me at home. Speaking of, I need to go home to feed him—"

"No you don't; you left here to run home three hours ago to feed him, remember?" Mustang said, smirking slightly at Riza's lack of an argument. "He has plenty of food for the night."

Riza stared at him and silently shook her head once more, locking eyes with him, trying to firmly and wordlessly state that she had no intention of spending the night with him that night, that she was set on going to her own home that night, no one else's. Mustang was not about to take no for an answer, however, thus he softened his expression drastically and changed tactics, putting on a genuine look of concern for her well-being.

"…Please, Riza," he said, walking up to her and gently placing his hands upon her shoulders. "Just for one night…just so I'll know you'll be ok."

Riza looked away from him, glancing back up at the clock as she did so. It was already about to be the next day, for the night was quickly approaching the morning. Finally, she sighed in defeat.

"Just for tonight."

…`c.n.`…

"Excuse me, Mr. Elric?"

"Yes?" Al asked, approaching the man at the front desk, who was holding a telephone in his hand. Probably another angry call from Mustang, telling me to hurry up, Al thought sourly as he took the phone from the man.

"Alphonse!"

Al blinked, a feeling of sheer dread filling him as he swallowed and asked feebly: "...Winry?"

"Yes it's me! Who'd you think it was?"

"What's the matter, why do you sound so angry?" Al stuttered, though he already knew the answer.

"Where is Ed? I've tried getting ahold of him for weeks now, but they've been telling me he's unavailable? What is that supposed to mean-and how long have YOU been there, Al?"

"Uhm, a little longer than five weeks now, I think-"

"And it never once occurred to either you or Ed to CALL US?!"

"I'm sorry, Winry! We—er—I—uhm...a lot has been going on here, ok?"

"Please, Al, Ed uses that excuse on me all the time! Where the hell is he anyway?"

Alphonse knitted his eyebrows together, trying to decide what to tell Winry. He really wanted to tell her the truth, that Ed got attacked and was now a vampire, but he knew he could do no such thing, what with the man at the front desk there next to him as he spoke to Winry. One single witness was one witness too many. And there was the high chance that Winry would think he was lying to her, too; there's no way she would take such far-off news so easily. She would be like Mustang and Hawkeye, demanding to see Edward herself-and there was no way he was about to let her come to Central at a time like this. It was far too dangerous.

He sighed heavily as he prepared to lie once again:

"I...I don't know where brother is."

Winry was silent for a second, and then she asked in a slightly softer voice:

"What do you mean 'you don't know?'"

"I mean, he's gone missing...he's been missing, actually, since before I even got in Central. And we still haven't found any trace of him yet..."

His voice trailed off as he heard her move away from the phone. Al stood in silence for a long moment before he finally asked quietly:

"...You still there, Winry?"

Silence...and then—

"Y-yes, I'm here."

Alphonse looked down on the floor, shutting his eyes tightly; he hated himself for the pain he was putting Winry through, and he just knew that Ed was going to kill him when he found out what he had done...

Or will he? Al thought, suddenly wrenching his eyes open with realization. After all, Ed probably doesn't even remember Winry at all...he hasn't mentioned her all this time. He even told me that I was the only one he remembered...poor Winry...

"Alphonse?"

Al pressed one palm against the wall in front of him, the other one wrapped so tightly around the phone that his knuckles were turning white.

"I'm here, Winry."

"Did you hear what I just said?"

"No, I didn't, I'm sorry. Could you repeat that?"

"Of course; I just said...I said to let me know when you find him. And to please keep in touch as much as possible...I don't want to lose you too, Al. Please."

Al swallowed and nodded.

"I promise, Winry. And I'm sorry I haven't called you myself. You have no idea how awful it's gotten here."

"...If you ever need me to come up there and help, I can—"

"No," Al interrupted firmly. "I've already lost my brother; I'm not about to lose you too!"

Silence on the other line once again followed Al's pained statement. He then heard the poor mechanic take a shaky breath and speak in a weak voice:

"Ok. Ok, I understand. I'm sorry...I just...I just don't like being left in the dark. I care too much about the two of you for that. Please don't leave me in the dark again, ok? Promise me that much at least?"

Alphonse thought about the dark hotel room two floors above his head, where the creature of the night that was once his brother slept like the dead. Would he even remember this girl who cares so much for his damned soul? If he didn't, the least Alphonse could do was to remember her himself.

"...I promise, Winry...I promise."

…`c.n.`…

[FIVE WEEKS LATER]

It was a cloudy, quiet day at HQ, for once. Not a single new dead body had been found in over a month, and the killer's bloody trail that he left behind in the victims he had attacked but let live had nearly dissipated as well, for they were now all out of the hospital and back home where the belong. The overall tensions in the office were lifted on top of everything else, even though nobody except for Mustang, Riza and Alphonse knew who the killer was. As long as nobody in Central was dying, HQ was mostly going to be in a relaxed state. Even the papers' headlines were becoming lighter in nature:

_HUNDREDS WHO FLED CENTRAL BEGIN RETURNING_

_PEACE IN THE STREETS OF CENTRAL_

However, occasionally they begged the question on everyone's mind, especially HQ's:

_HAS THE KILLER LEFT US FOR GOOD?_

Was the creature of the night that haunted Central's citizens gone at last? Of course, Alphonse knew the truth, along with the equally-secretive Brigadier General and his first Lieutenant. But Alphonse was the one that suffered most from guilt and from fear.

Mustang had gotten used to seeing Alphonse asleep on the couch in his large office every day in the early afternoon. He figured that the poor boy no longer got the proper amount of sleep at night due to the fact that he was stuck in a hotel room with an awake, hungry vampire, therefore he allowed him this time to catch up on sleep as much as he needed to do so. At first the other subordinate officers questioned the General for allowing this, but after a while they too got used to the younger Elric's daily naps. After all, when all is said and done Mustang truly did not care just of how much help Alphonse was in the office, for he helped enough by hiding Edward from Central Command. He always kept a wary eye on the boy's neck, however, watching to make sure that the bruise that had finally completely faded away does not randomly return one day.

Alphonse feared greatly that such a day was just around the corner.

The sleep-deprived Elric could easily tell that his older brother was slowly but surely beginning to lose control with his thirst. The animal blood was not going to cut it much longer, and the last thing that Al wanted to end up being was Edward's most recent victim. Hence the reason he has not been sleeping; he could not possibly sleep with a ravenous vampire silently pacing in the pitch black dark of the night. He did not trust Ed in his current state to keep in control with the beast inside him that craved blood with all its might.

"Alphonse."

Al looked up curiously, yawning slightly as he did so. The General did not even bother looking up as he instructed the younger Elric:

"Go home."

"Bu—"

"_Now_."

Riza looked up at Al and nodded in agreement with her superior officer.

"You're dead tired; you need to go and try to catch up on sleep. We've got everything here covered."

"Not much going on here anyway," Breda piped up lazily from the other room, to which Mustang finally looked up to raise an eyebrow at him. Alphonse sighed heavily; he truly did not feel like returning to the lair of the vampire just yet, but he felt that it would be best to obey Mustang and Hawkeye, despite his reluctance.

As he exited the office, however, he was stopped by Major Armstrong.

"Alphonse Elric, I must speak with you!" he said in a loud, booming voice, making Alphonse wince slightly.

"Hello, Major," he said in a far more quiet voice than Armstrong. "What's up?"

Armstrong looked worriedly at the door for a moment, then took Alphonse's arm and led him down another hallway before whispering:

"There's something you should know, something that I probably should not be telling you, so do keep quiet about this—"

"I will, just tell me what's going on," Al said, suddenly feeling much more awake. What could Armstrong need to tell him that was so urgent?

"…As of today, the Führer is having his office secretly investigate the General."

"_What_?"

"You heard me."

Alphonse gaped at Mustang. _This can't be happening_, he thought with a panic. _They know something—Grumman knows something…but __how_?

"Mustang's being investigated by Grumman?"

"Yes."

"For _what_?"

"I don't know, personally," Armstrong said, looking over his shoulder once more before continuing:

"But I do know that they think he has connections to the murderer, for some reason. Somebody tipped the Führer off—don't ask me whom, though. Nobody knows."

"This isn't happening," Al said, running a hand through his hair. "I can't believe this is happening!"

"Shh," Armstrong hushed the troubled Elric. "Nobody can know that you know, alright? I'm not supposed to disclose this to anyone in the General's office…"

"Sorry," Al said, looking away from Armstrong for a long moment before asking in a low voice:

"And is Edward still on the suspect list?"

Armstrong nodded once.

"For now; they're strongly considering taking his name off of it, however, since…you know."

Al shook his head:

"Know what?"

Armstrong opened his mouth to explain, but stopped himself from saying exactly what he was thinking.

"…Do you still believe that Edward is alive out there somewhere?" the big man decided to ask Alphonse, looking down upon the younger Elric with pity. Alphonse raised an eyebrow at the Major.

"Of course I do."

"Well," Armstrong said, looking away. "…I'm afraid most of the people in the Führer's office don't believe that anymore, Alphonse."

Al blinked, and then bowed his head.

"Oh."

"I'm sorry—"

"It's ok," Alphonse interrupted. "I understand where they're coming from. At least them believeing that will get brother's name cleared."

Armstrong nodded once in agreement with Al, and then looked behind where they stood.

"…I fear we may have spoken a bit too much upon this matter," he said, straightening up. "That's all I'm going to say for now."

"Alright," Al said, also glancing behind him. Armstrong looked at him concernedly:

"You go and get some sleep, Alphonse Elric."

"You don't have to tell me twice, Major."

He said this even with the knowledge that sleeping that night—or any night, for that matter, as long as he had to lie to the military and as long as his big brother was a vampire—was not an option.

Alphonse's thoughts were still racing so rapidly that evening when he finally made it back to the hotel that he got majorly caught off-guard when thunder boomed in the distance. With his hand upon the front door's handle, he bewilderedly looked back at the dark overcast sky with slight trepidation. After all, Al had never really been one for thunderstorms, and with the way the weather was beginning to turn, it looked like this storm was going to be more fearsome than usual. He sighed as he entered the building, knowing that his older brother would most likely be teasing him about his phobia all night long…

That is, if Edward even remembered that his little brother did not like thunderstorms.

Edward was already up and about when Al walked into their room, much to the latter's surprise, for it was merely just past eight.

"Hey brother," Al said, shutting the door behind him. "You're up early; everything alright?"

Ed shook his head once:

"I couldn't sleep at all…Listen, Al, you have to let me go out and hunt tonight. I can't take it anymore, I just need a small fix of human blood…but I _need_ it."

He saw Al shoot him a dark look. The younger of the two gulped, sitting down on the edge of his bed as he spoke:

"You know I can't let you do that, brother."

"You don't understand, Al," Ed said pleadingly, desperately running a hand through his tangled hair. "You're in serious danger here with me while I'm like this, I'm—I'm scared for _you_, Al, _please_—"

"But you can't leave the hotel!" Al said, shaking his head firmly. Ed paused for a moment or so, then spoke out again:

"Then at least let me go sneak into a random room and—"

"_No_, brother, are you crazy? Do you know how much suspicion that would cause?"

"I. need. _human. blood._"

The vampire sighed heavily and pointed a shaking hand behind him; Al looked to where Ed pointed and felt his heart drop down into the pit of his stomach.

"…You went through all of that blood _already_?"

"I needed it. I couldn't sate myself."

"It's only been five days since we got that…"

Ed opened his mouth to defend himself, but ended up just bowing his head in shame.

"…You don't understand, Al," he spoke in a broken voice. "I'm trying my best—trying so hard, for _you_, but…this is harder than I had anticipated. I need human blood _now_, or else I might hurt you. And I promised I would never hurt you again.."

Alphonse stared into Ed's bloodstained pupils, the twinge of fear he felt for his own well-being almost consenting to allow the beast to go out and hunt. But the events of the day replayed within his mind, reminding him of the seriousness of the military situation. Brigadier General Mustang was being secretly investigated, for goodness' sake! And on top of that Armstrong's nosy concern for Alphonse was beginning to get out of hand. It seemed like everybody in HQ knew that someone inside the military was connected very closely to the murderer…Therefore it was imperative that Ed stayed away from feeding off of humans inside and out of their hotel…

_But if he really needs human blood as much as he says he does, then…then what will become of me during the night?_

The younger Elric immediately averted his eyes from the vampire, getting up from the bed he was still seated upon in haste. As he approached the bathroom door, he paused before entering.

"…Sorry, Ed, but you can't have human blood anymore."

…`c.n.`…

Edward slumped onto the floor, his mind clouded with gluttonous bloodlust. His loose, long hair covered his pallid, hungered expression as he tried with every ounce of his strength not to accidently take a breath.

_I don't know what I'm going to do, what I can do. I'm losing control fast, I can feel it…Does Al not understand just how delicious he smells to me? My throat is burning!_

Ed's eyes widened even more at his thoughts. They were his and truly his, for the beast was not yet taking over. Unless he and the thing inside of him had truly at last become one. This disturbed him greatly, for he just called his own brother delicious, as if he were a piece of meat rather than a human being he truly loved and cared for. The disgusted vampire buried his face into his hands, refusing to breath for the fear of inhaling the sweet scent of Alphonse's blood…

…_I have fallen again; this is the end;_

_Pain redefined._

…`c.n.`…


	12. Chapter 11

A/N: Sorry it took so long for me to update this time around; I'm in the middle of planning out a major plot shift in this story right now, so everything that happens in each chapter must be carefully evaluated, and I want to make sure I portray my ideas right…so yeah. At least it got posted in time, lol; this one is a little bit shorter, though, but some very important things happen in it. ;)

EDIT: A bit of kind of sad news, guys; I did not realize how behind I was on this story's deadline for next month, and so I've decided, since this is kind of the major turning point in the plot, I'm going to take a small hiatus on it until January's update, because I really need to eleviate some of my fanfic stuff so as to be able to focus on finishing off this semester. I swear I will keep my promise and update once the New Year is upon us, AAANNNDD as a gift to my readers I'll have another surprise for y'all as well; so look for lots of goodies from your fellow FMA-lover here come 2013!

Entwined Sorcery will continue to be reguarly updated, despite my CN hiatus, btws.

Enjoy! ^_^

all things Fullmetal Alchemist (c) Hiromu Arakawa

Carpe Noctem...Seize the Night

Chapter Eleven: Insanity Dawns

"_First I thought it was a dream, _

_But then it smashed into reality. _

_Beautiful on the outside, decayed deeply within… _

_I secretly longed for something _

_Which had never existed; _

_Devoted to a body without a soul…"_

-"Illusive Consensus" by Epica

…`c.n.`…

The rain was picking up, its fast drops being illuminated in the lightning. Al jumped slightly at the loud boom following the brightness, his eyes escaping the reflection in the mirror to glance out of the small bathroom window. He found himself to be greatly conflicted; though he longed for his brother's company during the raging storm, he also at the same time feared his brother's presence. He could clearly see that Ed was not in his right mind and it creeped him out almost as much as the storm did. However, Alphonse knew that at some point he was going to have to leave the sanctuary of the bathroom. He needed his sleep, after all, even though at that moment in particular he felt wide awake. The very thought of sleep at a time like this was inconceivable, for he knew that there was a high chance that he would awaken to his brother's fangs.

Al sighed heavily; he had never felt this _trapped_ before in his life, not even when he was stuck in that suit of armor. Was being fed off of truly inevitable? It sure did seem like it was at that particular hopeless moment. What if Ed just downright attacked him while he was still awake? What if he was waiting right outside of the door for his prey to emerge?

Alphonse shook with fright at the thought of becoming nothing more to his brother than prey. That alone was enough to keep him from emerging from the bathroom…

_CCRRRAAAAAACCCKK!_

Alphonse flew out of the illuminated bathroom at once and dove under the covers of his bed, shaking in his boxer shorts that he wore to sleep in. Squirming until his head was beneath his pillow, he pressed his hands upon where his ears were buried in an effort to block out the sounds of the storm. His phobia for thunder had caused him to completely forget about Ed's presence in the room…

Ed's breath quickly caught in his throat at the sound of the bathroom door opening, and he was surprised to find Al hiding in bed when he looked up. _Is he really __that__ afraid of me…_? he thought for a moment, until he realized it was storming. He furrowed his brow, briefly remembering that his brother despised thunderstorms. He knew the storm was probably scaring Al to death right now. However, for once in his life, Ed was questioning whether or not to go and comfort his brother. Usually this type of thing was a no-brainer, but things were suddenly being constantly thrust into a twisted world of sickening differences. Would his attempts do more harm than good? What if he snapped and the beast took over? He would be putting Alphonse in a very dangerous situation.

…Ed exhaled slowly, finally deciding upon the right thing to do as he rose up silently from the floor. He saw Al flinch slightly when another boom of thunder broke through the heavens, and he couldn't help but smile slightly at just how small and innocent the action made him look, even though Al was seventeen and clearly not a little kid anymore. Ed gingerly sat upon the bed next to his brother, softly placing his hand upon the lump of covers, trying his hardest to keep from inhaling.

"You ok?" Ed asked, gently rubbing Al's back. The young Elric poked an eye out from under his pillow; after examining his brother's facial expression and decided that it was mostly vacant of most vampiric qualities (despite the bold crimson of his pupils). He sighed and brought himself up to a sitting position, holding his knees up to his chest.

"…I don't like storms," he huffed finally, warily glaring out the window. Ed couldn't hold back the laugh that bubbled from deep within his chest at the sight of Al's pout.

"And to think I had thought you'd grown out of that fear by now," he said, grinning teasingly at his brother, who did not look amused in the slightest.

"Don't laugh at me!" he cried frustratingly. "Phobias aren't funny…"

"Aw…"

Ed ruffled Al's hair:

"Don't worry, Al, I'm here. I would never let anything happen to you, you know that…" his voice faltered slightly. Can he truly promise that? Sure, he felt he had complete control now, but…how long would it last?

_**Not much longer now**__._

_Fuck…_

"I know, brother," Al said, looking at Ed with obvious relief. Despite his previous fears back in the bathroom, he could not help but feel a lot better now that Ed was here.

Ed, on the other hand, could feel what was left of his heart clench; _why me? Why my brother? Why does everything have to be so messed-up…?_

"Besides," Ed said, looking out the window after a long moment's pause. "The storm's calming down; it's mostly just rain now."

_**How is this all messed-up? It's your entire fault, if you think about it…**_

Ed pondered this and winced internally, for as per usual, the teratoid of a disembodied voice within him was right. He had put himself in danger of being attack by being out that night, when the first killer was running loose on the streets. It was his entire fault, for he was the one to go out there, far too lightly armed, especially with the absence of his alchemic skills. It was his fault for putting himself in a position to be attacked and turned into a vampire in the first place. He brought this fate upon himself.

Al yawned slightly, bringing the palm of his hand up to his face to cover his mouth. Ed flinched inwardly at this, catching his breath as he accidentally caught a whiff of Al's blood, which was pumping throughout its owner's body not five inches away from where he sat. He wanted to get up and move away from it but found that he could not make himself do so. His bloodlust was intermixing with his care for his brother, poisoning his purpose for sitting by him in the first place. Ed gulped roughly, looking away from his little brother; Al saw this. He bit his lip, contemplating a thought he had gone over earlier in his mind with himself in the bathroom. He knew at this point that the inevitable was bound to happen, so…what if he just faced it head-on? What if he just allowed his brother to drink from him, instead of waiting for him to attack?

…`c.n.`…

Riza Hawkeye hated the feeling of panic more than anything. She had felt it far too many times before, mostly when Roy's life was threatened, or when she was about to lose him forever. She still had nightmares from the last time she panicked, when he nearly disappeared from her life altogether. It had been a while since that last happened, now that Bradley was completely eradicated and far from Mustang, but suddenly she found herself shoved into a predicament extremely similar to that, for yet again her superior was being threatened. She felt her throat clench as she called out from her desk, her face illuminated by a sudden crash of lightening:

"…Roy…?"

Mustang looked up from his desk in surprise. Riza _never_ used his first name when they were at the office. _Ever_. Even if, like they were now, they were the only two left in probably the entire building given the time of night, in the middle of a raging thunderstorm. Something must be seriously wrong this time.

"What is it?" he asked, focusing in on her expression and finding it to be somewhat unreadable, much to his great disdain. Riza stood up slowly and looked up at him from the piece of paper in her hands.

"Alphonse left this in my desk earlier…at least I think it was Alphonse…it doesn't say who told him…"

"Told him what?" Mustang probed, rising from his desk and walking over to where she stood and reading over her shoulder.

_You didn't hear this from me:_

_The F__ü__hrer has been tipped off by __somebody__, I think either from the Detective's office or from outside of Central Command. I have no idea who, but whoever it was knows something, because Grumman's office is now conducting a secret investigation on the Brigadier General. Be careful, and please destroy this note after you read it._

"_What_?" Mustang hissed. "…What do they know?"

"I don't even think Alphonse knows the answer to that," Riza said honestly. "We could ask Armstrong, he works for that office, doesn't he—?"

"If he does know anything you know he wouldn't be able to tell us," Mustang said, running a hand through his hair. One of his worst nightmares was suddenly coming true, the day the military he dedicated his life to turned on him. "I'm trying to think of what I could've done to start this…and I can't think of a damn thing."

"You didn't do anything," Riza agreed, "Which is why this is coming as such a shock."

Mustang looked away from the letter.

"Who could have tipped Grumman off?"

Riza shook her head.

"I don't know…"

She looked back down at the letter and shoved it into her pants pocket, not wanting to look at the condemning words any longer. Here she was, supposed to be in a position in which she could protect her commanding officer from anything, and somebody managed to slip right through her fingers, threatening not only his position and career but essentially his life. For the punishment for high treason—which was essentially what she and Mustang had committed, by hiding a serial killer right under HQ's noses—was death.

"You can't get caught," she said softly, looking back at him with pleading eyes. Mustang turned around to look back at her.

"What do you mean? We're not going to get caught," Mustang said, but Riza shook her head.

"I don't care if I get caught, you just can't. You have to keep your name clear no matter what."

Mustang furrowed his brow as he finally understood what Hawkeye was saying, staring at her in disbelief.

"You mean by blaming _you_ if everything goes screwy?" he said, taking a step in her direction, not taking his eyes off of her. "That's not going to happen!"

"It better happen," she said through clenched teeth. "You're at a higher ranking, you are much more important to this country than I am; if all else fails, Roy—"

But she was cut off mid-sentence by Mustang's mouth suddenly being pressed against hers. Her eyes widened and she tried at first to pull away, but the Brigadier General had sensed this coming and immediately wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her tightly against him. Riza did not bother to struggle anymore after that, knowing deep down inside that she wanted this to happen as much as he did. She slowly closed her eyes as he broke away for a moment, waiting to see if she would return the kiss, brushing a hand against her face. Riza looked up at him through her eyelashes, placing her hands upon his chest and lifting her head up to press his lips back onto his. He smiled against her kiss, lifting her chin up even more with the hand upon her face as they deepened their kiss, Riza's fingers clenching at the fabric of Roy's military jacket.

_Our first real kiss…_she thought absentmindedly, _and at a time like this…wow._

But she knew why the timing was how it was. For two people who had been keeping their relationship strictly platonic for so long, while all throughout knowing full well of each other's feelings, it took a truly life-threatening situation to make them realize how important they really were to one another. She briefly recalled the last time he did something so rash, the last time both of their lives were being threatened…and even then their feelings for one another was the only thing that helped them survive that.

Mustang pulled back from her, gently pressing his forehead against hers as he breathing quietly slowed, his black eyes finding hers as he spoke huskily: "I've wanted to do that for a long time."

"Me too," she whispered breathlessly, making him smile slightly down at her. They stared at one another for a long moment, savoring the silence after what had just happened, confessing their silent love to each other just by looking in each other's eyes. Riza broke the silence at last, letting out a sigh as she wrapped her arms tightly around Mustang, placing her head upon his chest as she did so. Mustang held her closer to him still, and he could feel her body shaking slightly beneath his embrace.

Though the storm seemed like it was going to lighten up soon, the power suddenly cut out in Mustang's office, and the only light that remained was given by the occasional spark of lightning and the rain-dimmed streetlamps below.

"…Nothing's going to happen to me, Riza," he whispered in the dark. "They still don't know who the killer is; that's still the first thing on their minds, finding that out. We won't let them find anything more out than what they already know."

"But if there really is someone on the inside that knows more than we think they do," Riza said against Roy's military jacket, "Then who's to say they don't already know the killer is Edward?"

Roy considered this for a minute or so before admitting quietly:

"I don't know."

He bent his head to softly kiss Riza's neck before continuing:

"But if he knew that already, then what would keep him from telling Grumman the whole story? He obviously is missing some facts still, which is why they're stuck with just investigating me."

Riza considered this and finally nodded against Mustang's chest.

"You're right," she admitted. "We'll just have to be more careful from now on."

"Right," Mustang agreed. He rested his head on top of her shoulder, and he could feel his heart clench at the thought of what would happen to the woman in his arms if he was careless. The memory of her blood pouring out of her jugular before him, when he was in a position in which he could do nothing to save her, swept hauntingly through his mind as he squeezed his eyes shut.

"…That won't be hard for me to do."

"Hmm?" Riza said, slightly confused at Mustang's last melancholy statement. The Brigadier General sighed heavily, lifting his head back up so he could look at her.

"…Because I'm beginning to realize just how much I have to lose."

"Oh…" Riza said, so softly that even though they stood so close to one another, she was certain Roy did not hear her. She blinked once, then twice, and then lifted her head from his chest in order to look up into her commanding officer's darkened face.

"Now you know how I've felt all this time," she whispered, placing a hand upon his cheek as she made to kiss him once again.

…`c.n.`…

"…Brother?"

Ed paused for a moment, and then exhaled slowly before answering Al.

"Yeah?"

"You're not going to be able to get to sleep without human blood, are you?"

Ed looked at Al with a questionable expression. Al shook his head:

"Just answer the question."

"No, probably not," Ed admitted, scratching at the back of his neck. Al nodded once, sighing heavily as he lay back onto the pillows.

"Why'd you ask?" Ed suddenly demanded, staring out the window in the rain. Al didn't answer him at first, because he was thinking too intently upon whether or not to voluntarily allow his brother to feed from him. His main concerns were whether or not Ed would be able to control himself and how badly it would hurt. Though he had been fed from before, he was asleep when it happened, so Al didn't remember any of it, really.

"…Ok. Do it."

Ed turned and raised an eyebrow at Alphonse.

"Do what?" he asked warily.

The younger Elric sat up and looked the vampire in the eye.

"Drink from me."

Ed's eyes widened in horror at Alphonse's deadly serious words:

"No. No, I won't!"

"You need blood, Ed," Al reasoned with him. "Human blood."

"B-but I swore I would never drink your blood again Al! I made a _promise_."

"And I'm giving you permission to break it."

Al sighed:

"You said you don't need too much, so I'm confident that you'll be able to control yourself."

Ed shook his head.

"But I—you—"

"Ed."

Ed reluctantly brought his reddened eyes up to meet the amber ones of his little brother.

"…I know you'll do it," Al said softly.

"W-What?"

Al took a deep breath and explained:

"Because if you don't, something worse may happen in the middle of the night, while I'm asleep and not watching you—and if I allow that risk, we'd be endangering not just me but the other people staying the night in this hotel. We can't let that happen, brother."

Ed continued to stare at him in shock, knowing that he was right though unwilling to accept that he would ever truly stoop so low. Eventually he sighed, breaking eye contact and looking down at the bed.

…_not again,_ he silently pleaded with the beast within him. _He's my brother; I'm supposed to protect him, not hurt him!_

The voice did not answer him, which frightened Edward more than when it makes its dark, sadistic commentary. Now he knew he had finally been corrupted. The monster within no longer saw a need to sway Ed…

Either that or Edward had finally become the monster himself.

"Brother?"

"Al," Ed whispered, too soft for Al to hear, though he could read his name off of his brother's lips. The younger Elric hesitantly reached a hand out and grasped his older brother's shoulder, squeezing it. Ed forced himself to inhale, wincing as the aroma of Al's blood made his throat burn.

"…I'll…I'll do it when you're asleep again, like last time, so you won't feel it—"

"I'm not going to be able to fall asleep knowing you're going to bite me at some point during the night, Ed. There's no point in even trying that."

"Right," Ed said, his voice cracking. "Ok, Al. I-if you're sure, then…ok."

Al nodded firmly, and then swallowed:

"Uhm…so, should I lie back down or, uh…"

"…You can stay like that, sitting up," Ed said, scooting closer to his brother, inadvertedly licking his lips as he looked at Al's neck, where the bruise from the last time he got fed from was now faded and yellowing. Al saw him lick his lips and gulped again, bracing himself. Ed placed on hand on his brother's shoulder and the other gently upon the base of his neck, bringing himself closer to his clean flesh, inhaling Al's sweet scent…

Quick as lightning Ed was up and off of the bed, shaking his head furiously, his back to Alphonse.

"I can't do it, Al! This is insane—it's so _wrong_—I can't—I WON'T! _I won't hurt you again!_"

Alphonse sat quietly and watched his brother pace back and forth, waiting for him to calm down enough to register words. It took a while but eventually Ed did return to the bed, refusing to look at Al at all. Al sighed again:

"You're not going to hurt me, Ed. I know you won't."

"How do you know…?" Ed demanded weakly.

"Because I trust you."

"You shouldn't, Al. Not anymore."

"I know what you're thinking. You're not a monster, Ed, you—"

But the young Elric was forced to swallow his words as his brother turned to face towards him, his blood-red eyes inhumanly contradicting what was just spoken.

"Heh," Ed remarked upon watching his brother choke on his own words. "You still want to go through with this madness?"

"…You need it—"

"No!" Ed said, clasping his palm across his brother's mouth. "Don't you start that, Al! There is _no need_ great enough to make me willingly hurt you!"

He locked eyes with Al, reading the cluster of emotions from his untainted pupils. Fear was one of them; the others were a bit more difficult to detect. As the vampire looked away, though, Al gingerly wrapped his hands around his brother's wrist, pulling his hand away from his mouth and bringing it up to rest upon the throbbing veins and arteries within his neck. Ed looked back at his hand, concentrating intently upon the way Al's blood felt, the warmth steaming enticingly beneath his skin, sending sensations up into Ed's fingertips, enunciating the painful dryness in his throat. Al braced himself as he saw what remained of Ed's humanity succumb completely to the monster within; his brother's breathing picked up, and Al could feel him move his face closer, could feel his feverish breath upon his pulsating neck. Ed stroked his hand across the soft pallet of Al's throat, filled with hot, fresh blood…

Al breathed in sharply as Ed sank his fangs into his jugular and began to gluttonously gulp down his blood. The pain that he felt was far greater than he had been prepared for, and it took a great amount of strength for him to keep from crying out. The puncture wounds caused by Edward's fangs burned like hellfire and continued to irritate as the vampire sucked blood out from the holes. Al clenched his hands into fists and gritted his teeth, trying to remain calm. It was difficult to do so, though; for a moment Al began to panic as he felt his life forced being drained, scared that Ed had lost complete control after all, despite what Al had said before about having faith in Ed not doing that exact thing. But then the younger Elric felt his brother stop for a moment, just before slowing his drinking down significantly.

Alphonse bit his lip as a haunting chill went down his spine, causing him to shiver against his brother. Ed felt this vaguely as he drank and carefully wrapped an arm around his little brother's shoulder.

_He's cold…he's in pain; I can feel his fear._

Ed felt an aching in his chest as he fought himself. He wanted to keep drinking, but at the same time he did not want to traumatize Alphonse. The poor boy already felt so tense in his grasp, unnaturally so—like a dead body going through _rigor mortis_, though Al's shallow breaths could still be heard.

…_ok. No more._

Alphonse slumped as Ed reluctantly pulled his mouth away from his neck, still supporting his prey. After quickly licking the blood off of the corners of his mouth and lips, he lightly wiped away a bit of blood from the wounds with his finger. Still supporting Al, Ed then leaned forward and ran his tongue over the punctures. Once again Al shivered, wrinkling his nose as his brother licked him a second time.

"Gross, Ed," he said feebly, surprised at how fatigued his voice suddenly sounded.

Ed sat back up:

"You know my saliva closes up the cuts, Al. That's why I did that…"

He looked into his little brother's pallid face with concern.

"…How are you feeling?"

"Exhausted," Al said truthfully, a huge yawn following. Ed frowned:

"But are you in pain?"

Al shook his head, and then lay back upon his pillow.

"Just a little sore," he said, looking back up at his big brother. "What about you? Did you get enough?"

"Yeah…I feel much better," Ed admitted guiltily, scratching at the back of his neck again. "…but…Al, I want to know—and I want your honest answer, don't lie for my sake…did I hurt you?"

Al forced open his drooping eyes and:

"…a little," he admitted.

"Don't sugar-coat it," Ed demanded.

"…ok then," Al sighed. "It hurt a lot when you made the punctures. It…it _burned_ me…but that didn't last too long, I swear. The pain eventually numbed itself out; I was fine, Ed."

He yawned again, and then pulled the bed comforter over himself.

"All I need is some sleep…and then I'll be fine, brother."

Ed stared at Alphonse for a long moment, thinking over what he said. _It only hurt for a little bit…but the point is that it __had__ hurt_, he thought with sorrow. He finally nodded, though, lying back on the pillow next to Al, watching over his sibling with daunting worry and relentless guilt.

"…I'm so sorry, Al. I'm supposed to protect you, but…now I've hurt you again."

But the younger Elric was already out for the night, drugged by the very absence of part of his life force, his dedication to his brother ultimately being the cause for his exhaustion.

_Devoted to a body without a soul…_

…`c.n.`…


	13. Chapter 12

A/N: Carpe Noctem is back! YESH! I've labeled this chapter with 'Part Two' because this is about the halfway point in the story; I'll finish it out in about 11 or so more chapters. But don't go anywhere, because it's gonna get reeeeeally…dark. :) yay vampires! ^_^

all things Fullmetal Alchemist (c) Hiromu Arakawa

Carpe Noctem...Seize the Night

PART TWO

Chapter Twelve: A Second Monster

"_See the dogs come running_

_Smelling blood now_

_To an open sore_

_On a parasite_

_Countless hearts have fallen_

_Hard to number_

_Damnation's whore_

_Is looking for a victim tonight…"_

-"Serpentine" by Disturbed

…`c.n. `…

The brisk dawn arose as if it were any morning, even though this particular morning bore a damning sunrise for Alphonse. After the fatigue from the blood loss wore off, he could not fall back asleep at all, no matter how hard he tried. He could not put his mind to rest, for it was spinning far too fast for even his intelligence to be able to comprehend what had just happened. He had purposely allowed a vampire to drink his blood. Sure, the beast just happened to be his brother, but still. He could have died, or worse, been turned himself…or, at least, he figured that could have happened. Not that he knew much about how Ed himself became a creature of the night.

When he first woke up it was about five or six in the morning, about two full hours before he had to be up at HQ. Al did not know for sure, for it was too dark in the room to see the face of the clock. Apparently he had accidentally fallen asleep in his brother's bed, for the vampire was passed out beneath the covers next to him. Al promptly rose and moved across the room to his own bed, but even under his own comforter he found sleep impossible. After a good hour and a half of trying to fall back asleep, Al finally gave up and got out of bed. He figured he had better take time to assess the damage himself before covering it up from the world. He winced slightly when his bare feet made contact with the icy cold floor and bit his bottom lip as he tiptoed into the bathroom.

The first thing he saw when he entered the small room made him catch his breath. Out of the small window was a pure-white world of ice; the rain from the previous evening's storm had frozen when the temperature dropped below freezing, covering the ground and streets in a thin frosty layer of snow and sleet. The rising sun was blocked behind a thick layer of clouds, casting only a soft gray glow over the white land rather than its usual golden sheen, making it look more gloomy than glorious. Al blinked at this thought, wondering over the irony of the gray, bleak morning as he turned to look at himself in the mirror. Just as he knew it would, the ungodly black bruise caused by the previous evening's events had returned with a vengeance. Al did not dare touch it, for he was sore enough already without making the memory stronger. It was much more prominent than the last time he was fed from, however, for two reasons; one, Ed had drank much more than the last time, and two, Al had gotten paler in the past few weeks due to a lack of sleep and sunlight. Al sighed; he was beginning to look more and more like his vampiric brother with each passing day, regardless of the fact that he had somehow survived throughout Edward's murderous escapades…so far.

…`c.n.`…

Brigadier General Mustang was already in the office by the time Riza finally arrived, bundled up in a white scarf and her heavy black military coat, with a few stray snowflakes still gleaming in her bangs. She hastily made for her desk, muttering a quick apology for being so late as she passed by Mustang. He watched her make a point of not making eye contact with him as he too walked back to his large desk and sat down, looking over at her once more before focusing in on his work. It amazed both of them, how easily the world continues to spin despite the previous night's events.

Alphonse arrived soon after Riza did, equally as rushed and snow-swept.

"Sorry I'm late, General."

"It's fine, Alphonse," Mustang said, waving off the Elric's apology. "It's going to be an off morning, with the snow and all."

"Let's hope not," Al said, slumping onto the couch. "Führer Grumman won't like that."

"He also won't like something like this," said a voice from the front of the room. Mustang looked up with wide eyes at the person who had spoken. Alphonse also gulped, suddenly more awake due to fear as he turned to face Grumman as he approached Mustang's desk.

"Detective Grahnger just brought this to me," the Führer said, tossing a file folder onto the Brigadier General's desk, his stern expression unwavering. Mustang raised an eyebrow as he reached out and opened the file, examining its contents carefully. After a long moment of everyone in the room observing his examination, he spoke:

"I don't understand…what does this have to do with the case exactly?"

"Nothing, of course, except for the fact that the person who's DNA belongs to this hair is supposed to be _dead_. Care to explain, General?"

"Edward _is _dead, sir," Mustang said exasperatedly, ignoring the look of horror on Alphonse's face, who he knew, despite all of the evidence against his beliefs, was supposedly the last person in all of HQ who still thought that Edward was out there somewhere. Even though Mustang knew better, he encouraged Al to keep up such a façade during the closer inspections—an instruction that seemed to have backfired upon himself.

"Plus it says here that they actually did _not_ get any viable DNA evidence from the hair. There's no way he could still be out there, with the way his injuries were," Mustang continued. "Just because we haven't found a body yet doesn't mean he's still roaming about."

He closed the file and handed it back to Grumman.

"I suggest you instruct Detective Grahnger to look into more living possibilities behind the murders rather than continuing to accuse a dead man."

"You know, at most times I'd be more likely to agree with you, but I'm beginning to lose my trust, Mustang. There are far too many secrets being kept from me here."

"What _secrets_?!"

"What we all need to do is calm down—" Riza began, but was interrupted by Grumman.

"Take a look at what else is in that file folder, and _then_ you may try to convince me that Edward Elric is dead."

"Fine," Mustang said, opening the file once more and leafing through more of its contents. As he examined it closer, he discovered printed upon its pages more evidence of the elder Elric brother's roaming around Central. On one page was a printed photograph of a boot print upon the ground; on another were interesting fingerprint dustings, next to them a scan of Edward Elric's fingerprints. The two prints nearly matched perfectly. The more Mustang read, the more infuriated he became. _Wasn't I the one who pointed out the footprint to Grahnger? Does that asshole honestly think he can use __my own evidence__ against me?!_

"Anything to say?" Grumman probed. Mustang shook his head.

"This is ridiculous," he said through gritted teeth. "I'm the one that brought up the footprint in the first place!"

"And I'm finding it rather strange that you've chosen to change opinions about its existence so suddenly, General. Don't you all find that strange as well?"

"Wait," Al said, eyeing Mustang. "What do you mean you're the one that pointed out brother's footprint?"

"I showed Grahnger that photograph," Mustang said, refusing to break eye contact with Grumman. "That was back when Ed was still on the suspects list."

"_You_ put my brother on the suspects list?" Alphonse exclaimed in horror. Grumman raised an eyebrow at the outburst:

"It seems I'm not the only one you've been keeping secrets from, Mustang."

"I'm not keeping secrets!" Mustang said exasperatedly. "The only reason I chose not to tell Al about putting Edward on the list was because of how upset he still was at the time. Excuse me for being empathetic."

"And when are you going to choose to finally be empathetic towards all the people who have been killed and _their_ families?!"

"Nobody's been killed in over a month and a half, Grumman!" Mustang yelled, rising from his seat. "For all we know the murderer could've fled town!"

"You honestly want to take that risk? You're seriously considering closing the case without giving those families some closer, some knowledge that we've at least _identified_ their loved one's murderer?"

"What else would you have me do, sir? We still to this day have no evidence."

"That's a lie; there's evidence sitting before you that you're refusing to even _consider_."

"I'll consider it when I look at evidence proving that Edward Elric is still alive, let alone _killing_."

"So that's your grand plan, Mustang?" Grumman said with a deep frown. "Waiting and watching? Waiting for the next victim, for the next crime scene to investigate instead of looking closer at the evidence we already have?"

"Yes," Mustang said, looking Grumman in the eye. "Because the 'evidence' Grahnger has gathered up is invalid and therefore not worth my time."

"You see, that is the exact kind of attitude that had made me suspicious in the first place! You're not even willing to consider an idea that _you yourself brought up_!"

"Back when I initially brought it up, I still thought the possibility of Edward still being alive was a very probable one, but now I see that there's just no way. Sorry to disappoint, but people don't just come back from the dead just to kill, you know."

_Even though that's exactly the kind of case we're dealing with here…but if I even attempted to bring up the subject of vampires at a time like this, more than just one person in this room will be trying to strangle me._

"It's not just the deaths that are the reason for our investigation, Mustang. Or did you already forget about those victims remaining in Central Medical's psychiatric ward? How do you think those people's families feel, Mustang?"

"I'm certain they feel like _Hell_, sir, but we all do at a time like this. We're working on it, don't you doubt that. We're just working on finding a living suspect to go off of right now, because the only one we seem to have evidence for is a dead one."

"Show me the body, Mustang."

The Brigadier General looked horrified at Grumman's words.

"_What_?"

"Show me Edward Elric's dead body, General. Once you do, then I will officially write him off of the suspects list."

Grumman adjusted his glasses, then looked Mustang in the eye.

"…But if you fail to do so, I'm going to allow Grahnger to keep investigating him…and you."

And with that, the Führer turned on his heel and exited Mustang's office, leaving all of the General's subordinates staring with horror at their superior officer.

"They're investigating you?" Fuery asked Mustang in shock.

"It would appear so, Sargent," Mustang said, sitting back down with a huff. Alphonse glared at him, to which Mustang returned the expression.

"What, you too?"

"How dare you," Alphonse growled. "How _dare_ you put my brother on the suspect list."

"Oh, give me a break, Alphonse, you would have done the same thing were you in my position."

Mustang gave him a second look that read, _besides, he really ended up being the killer after all, didn't he?_

"That's not the point," Al said, in protest to both the spoken and unspoken statements. "He trusted you."

"And I trusted him; how dare _he_ put _me_ in a position like this!"

"Ok, that's _enough_," Lieutenant Hawkeye said sternly. "We can all talk this out later; for now, we've all got to get back to work."

"Fine. _Fine_," Mustang said, obviously still infuriated as he tossed the file folder Grumman left upon his desk away from him, turning in his chair to face away from his desk in an effort to ignore the damning evidence that laid upon it.

…`c.n.`…

"Stop being paranoid, sir," Hawkeye said, watching Mustang pace. "It's well past eleven, I promise you no one else is here at this hour."

"You never know," Mustang said, looking around the room. "They could have installed cameras for all we know…damn investigation."

Alphonse yawned hugely, covering his mouth with a shaking hand. He was so exhausted that he couldn't even sit up straight, and Hawkeye looked with concern as he once again laid back down across one of the couches.

"You really should go home, Alphonse."

"Not until I get a straight answer from the General; why did you put Ed on the suspect list?"

"Look, that was before I found out he actually was the killer, Al," Mustang said, looking down at the younger Elric with a frown. "I would have never said anything if it was after you admitted to us that Edward had turned into a vampire."

"…Well, damn," Al said in response. Mustang sighed:

"Tell me about it. I've no idea how we're going to get out of this mess, since I've obviously got no corpse to show Grumman."

"Technically you do," Al said mid-yawn, "But it just so happens to be a walking corpse, y'know."

"Not helping, Al," Hawkeye said with a slight frown. "Grumman can't know that Edward's a vampire."

"He'll want to kill him," Mustang said, his frown deepening. "Which would have happened if he were still human, anyway, since the penalty for first-degree murder is—"

"Once again, _not helping_," Hawkeye said, muttering under her breath about how exhausting it was to be the damn mediator. "Maybe we should just call it a night, sir; we're all tired and cranky."

"I don't want to go back to the motel yet," Al said softly, sitting up and bringing his knees up to his chest.

"Why not, what's wrong?" Riza asked Al with concern. Al shook his head, but before he could respond Mustang interrupted:

"Because he's afraid of getting fed from again."

Al raised an eyebrow at Mustang.

"Ed hasn't drank my blood in over a—"

"Don't lie to me, Al. No more lies," Mustang said with an exhausted huff. "You've been wearing that damned scarf all day. You let him drink from you again last night, didn't you?"

"What?" Riza said with a sharp intake of breath. Al frowned, covering his eyes with his arm.

"Yeah; it was either that or have him go out and drink from someone else, in the process creating yet another victim to Grumman's list of Edward's prey. Which would you have preferred, General?"

"Neither."

"Well…that's not a choice anymore."

Silence followed Alphonse's last grim comment; snow was falling again outside of the window, casting ghostly shadows upon the frozen night's air. Al stared out of the window behind Mustang, trying to honestly forget about all of the misfortune occurring all around them, while at the same time trying to begin to mentally prepare himself to be drank from again as soon as he got back to the motel room. His heart rate picked up painfully as he felt fear squeeze his chest tight, wondering if that's all his existence was now worth to his brother, just another meal.

"Alphonse?"

"Huh?" Al said, looking back at Riza. "Sorry, I zoned out."

"I asked you…if you were just going to continue doing this, letting Ed…letting him feed from you."

"Oh," Al said, looking down at the ground. "I don't know, Lieutenant. I mean, the animal blood obviously isn't enough from him, so he needs to get sustenance from _somewhere_…so for right now, yes. I guess I am."

"That's disgusting," Mustang remarked under his breath. Al narrowed his eyes.

"I don't see _you_ offering _you're_ blood, General!"

"That wasn't meant for you to hear, Alphonse," Mustang said, looking down at Al. "I should've kept that in my head; my apologies."

"I know it's gross," Al said, and then sighed, burying his face in his hands. "But I don't know what else to do. I'm losing him, guys…I feel like I'm losing my brother. He's only himself when he's sated, and even then, if he doesn't get enough blood…I don't even know who he is anymore. It's like he's possessed by his thirst."

Riza and Mustang looked with pity upon the heartbroken boy before them. Sure, they had to deal with the law and Edward's effect upon the military and the city…but Alphonse had to deal with all of the emotional stress of being forced to watch his big brother become a monster, right before his very own eyes. At least Riza and Mustang did not have to live with that every day; Alphonse had no one to go home to but an empty, demonic being obsessed with drinking his blood.

"I'll do anything to keep my brother," Alphonse said, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat, then sat up and finished his statement:

"And if that means allowing him to drink my blood, so be it."

Mustang looked at Alphonse, thinking over the boy's words and what they meant. In theory, allowing Alphonse to remain as the only victim would mean the eradication of all other victims. Without any victims, Grumman won't have anything to go by to accuse Mustang's office with, therefore eventually clearing his and Edward's name. Also, if the streets of Central remain bloodless for three months, Grumman will be forced to close the case for good as per Amestrian law.

"But you could get hurt," Riza said, looking over Alphonse. "You're already beyond exhausted…"

"That's just a general lack of sleep, Lieutenant," Al reasoned with Riza. "This doesn't have anything to do with that."

"Just don't get yourself killed, Alphonse…God forbid should Ed lose control—"

"I'll just have to trust him not to do exactly that," Al said. "I'm still going to make him drink the animal blood, too. Between that and my blood, that should keep Ed satisfied, alright?"

"I don't like this," Mustang said finally. "Damn Grumman and his accusations. I don't like the idea of using you as bait, Alphonse."

"I'm not _bait_, General," Al said. "I'm just…uhm…well…"

Al sighed.

"Ok, maybe I am bait. But I don't mind being bait if it means ending this once and for all."

"And when it's finally over, Alphonse?" Riza questioned. "Then what will you and Edward do?"

"I don't know," Alphonse admitted. "I haven't thought that far ahead yet. But with this kind of stuff you just have to take it one step at a time, alright?"

"I still don't like this," Mustang said stubbornly. Riza frowned slightly.

"Neither do I; you're bound to get caught, Al."

Al pursed his lips.

"Would you like me to stop working up here at HQ? That might make it less risky."

"No, because then it'll look suspicious, you suddenly up and leaving," Mustang said. "Last thing I want to do is give Grumman yet another thing to throw in my face."

"Right," Al said, down casting his eyes once more. Riza looked upon him with pity for a moment, and then suddenly remembered something.

"Oh, here, I've been meaning to show you this…"

_You didn't hear this from me:_

_The Führer has been tipped off by somebody, I think either from the Detective's office or from outside of Central Command. I have no idea who, but whoever it was knows something, because Grumman's office is now conducting a secret investigation on the Brigadier General. Be careful, and please destroy this note after you read it._

"Did you leave this here for me?" Riza asked Al as he read the note. To her surprise, Al shook his head.

"No, it wasn't me, sorry."

"Then who could it have been?" Mustang asked. Al shrugged.

"Beats me; I don't recognize the handwriting."

"Neither do I," Riza said with a frown. "Oh well, I'd better get rid of it, though…"

"So you knew about the investigation before today?" Al inquired.

"Yeah. At least now we know why Grumman's office is investigating," Mustang said, cursing under his breath. "Can't believe that idiot Grahnger would sell me out like that."

"Like you said, he's an idiot," Riza said, wrinkling her nose. "I never did like him."

"I did, until now," Mustang growled, looking over at Al. "He's good with his work, a little _too _good. I could tell Ed didn't like him that much, either, especially that one time he came with us to a crime scene and asked Ed to perform alchemy, the idiot."

"Someone doesn't listen to the news…" Al said. "I'm surprised he's still a cop."

"You and me both," Mustang said huffily. "But unfortunately for us, Grumman still trusts him."

"We'll just have to work around that the best we can," Riza said with a frown. Al yawned again and stood up from the couch.

"It's midnight. I should probably start heading back to the motel to check up on Ed."

"You don't have to stay over there if you don't want to tonight," Riza said. "You could stay over at my place tonight if you'd like."

"Thanks, Lieutenant, but you and I both know I need to go back in case…well, you know."

"That and we still have to have someone stay the night with Ed, to make sure he doesn't get out," Mustang pointed out. Alphonse nodded in agreement, grabbed his coat and made his way to the door.

"G'night, guys."

"Goodnight, Alphonse," Riza said, watching him exit the room. When he was gone she looked back at Mustang. "Ed's going to want to drink his blood again tonight."

"I know," Mustang said, rising from his chair and stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I think Al knows that, too."

"He shouldn't have to be put through that," Riza said, crossing her arms. "But…at the same time, I don't know what else we could suggest for Ed. If he honestly can't live off of animal blood—"

"Then Al's right," Mustang finished. "He's going to have to act as Ed's sustenance at least until three months has passed."

"Right."

Mustang approached Hawkeye, placing a hand on her arm.

"…We should head out too, before we get snowed-in."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Riza said, allowing herself to fall into Mustang's embrace. His warmth felt so right, and she had yearned to be held by him all day. She hated having to act like nothing had changed all day, hating regarding Mustang as nothing more than a superior officer when he truly was so much more to her. He kissed her once on the cheek, smiling against her hair after feeling her face heat up upon contact.

"Maybe you should stay over at my place again, Riza."

She sighed, then turned and faced him, looking him in the eye.

"I was hoping you'd ask…I don't really want to be alone tonight, for once."

"Neither do I," Mustang said, hugging her close. "Especially after a hellish day like today."

…`c.n.`…

_Just one more bite…that won't hurt, just to have a little bit more…_

Edward's fangs made contact with his skin, and he eagerly gnawed down upon his bottom lip, jolting his eyes open in shock and pain. Even smaller dots of blood appeared at the puncture marks this time, and Ed shuddered with pleasure as he ran his tongue along the wounds, the taste of the little bit of Alphonse's blood that still remained in his body from the night before electrifying his senses. He winced as the burning deep down in his throat spiked up in response to the taste of blood, his thirst even more evident that the previous winter's eve.

_I've got to stop biting my lip, I keep tasting him._

_**Is that such a bad thing?**_

_Yes, he's my brother!_

_**And his blood is delicious…**_

_Ugh_…Ed's stomach clenched in both hunger and disgust. He silently prayed that Alphonse wouldn't come back to the motel that evening out of fear, so as to preserve his brother's being. That would be the only way to keep himself from drinking Al's blood that night, to not be around him at all.

Just as he thought that, of course, Alphonse entered the room. Ed's eyes widened in horror; he struggled to keep from breathing as he brought his knees up close into his chest, willing himself to be absorbed by the shadows. He could hear Alphonse unwrap his scarf from around his neck, an article of clothing that was most likely worn all day by the younger Elric in order to hide the black bruise upon the side of his neck. Next went his coat, which landed with a loud THUMP atop Alphonse's bed. After that sound Edward could hear nothing else, until Alphonse finally spoke into the dark room.

"…Brother? Where are you?"

_In Hell_, Ed thought, to which the beast inside of him let out a demonic cackle that chilled his dead body to the core. The vampire forced himself to swallow and inhale.

"I'm here," he spoke in a hoarse voice. "By the window…don't come over here."

Edward expected Al to ignore his warning as usual and either go to him anyway or ask 'why not?' However, much to Ed's surprise, Al responded:

"Ok."

Ed exhaled in relief as Alphonse entered the restroom. Maybe he could get through this night without drinking Al's blood if Al just stayed away from him. Maybe…but how long until Al's stubbornness returned? How long would this moment of peace last?

Alphonse observed his bruise in the mirror for a long moment after taking off his shirt, gingerly brushing his fingers across the injured area, testing the pain. To his relief it was merely sore now, but nonetheless still very much a healing wound, and Al winced at the thought of Ed re-opening the punctures. It would hurt even worse tonight because of how tender that area of his neck already was. The pain would be much more immense, and he would feel much worse the following morning. Al knew all of this to be fact, just as much as he knew that the need to give Edward his blood was just as real.

Edward curled up even tighter in a ball when he felt Alphonse finally approach him. He refused to look at his little brother as he felt him sit down next to him, despite his previous warnings. Of course Alphonse would not listen; of course he would rather put his life in danger than ignore his brother. It was stupid for him to do this, for Ed's mouth began to tingle, began to hunger for Al's flesh, and for the crimson substance that lies beneath it. The taste of his blood still lingered upon his dry tongue, from when he bit his own lip in desperation just moments before Al arrived. He ran his tongue over the punctures, finding much to his dismay that they had already healed over.

"It's not safe for you to be so close to me right now," Ed growled, still refusing to lift his head. Al sighed:

"I know."

"Then why are you _here_?"

"You know why, Ed."

The vampire remained silent, refusing to acknowledge the fact that yes; he knew Al was offering himself up to him again. He refused to think about that, though, refused to think of his brother as someone to drink from, for his life meant so much more to him than that.

_**Hey, it's blood he's offering. Take it or leave it…and if you leave it, you'll kill him later.**_

_You don't know that. I've learned a lot of self-control._

_**You're also abnormally thirsty right now, however. You don't know how much hunger it will take you to lose all of your self-control.**_

…_You're right._

"It's cold, isn't it?" Ed asked, his voice slightly muffled because he still had not lifted his head from his knees. Al shrugged.

"I'm fine in this."

Holding his breath, Ed finally looked up at Al. He was dressed for bed in merely a t-shirt and boxer shorts.

"You'll be cold in that, Al."

"No I won't," Al responded, gesturing towards the heater in the corner of the room to the left of where they were sitting by the window. "It's pretty warm in here."

"Ok, if you're sure," Ed said, wrinkling his nose, struggling to keep holding his breath. "I mean, because I may have some sweatpants or something in my suitcase you can borrow—"

"You're stalling, Ed."

"Can you blame me?" Ed replied darkly, sighing in defeat as he sat up straight. "I don't want to hurt you again."

"It doesn't hurt," Al said unconvincingly. Ed glared at him, making him clear his throat and correct himself:

"I swear it doesn't hurt for long."

_But the point is that it hurts at all…I'm not supposed to be doing this to you, Alphonse. I'm not supposed to cause you pain._

_**You're choice, Edward. Cause him a moment of pain…or cost him his life.**_

_It's always has to be a choice between a life of pain and death, doesn't it?_

_**Good. You're finally catching on.**_

Ed turned and looked Alphonse in the eye, the expression on his own face one of pain, whereas Alphonse looked both collected and as if he were bracing himself. _I'm not sure which is the lesser of the two evils anymore…_

"…Damn it all," he whispered at last, taking Alphonse into his arms and bending down over his bruised neck. Alphonse pressed his lips together as he felt the tips of his big brother's razor-sharp fangs brush momentarily against his flesh. He shut his eyes, feeling tiny trickles of blood run down his neck as Ed's fangs broke through the skin. He idly memorized this feeling of searing pain, the burning sensation that coursed through his entire being as the beast drank his blood, trying to force himself to ally with the horror, to get used to it quickly, for he would now be forced to experience it for many more nights to come. He shuddered at the thought, and Ed tightened his grip around his brother, his hungry lips moving around his fangs as he drank voraciously.

Alphonse fell asleep in his arms that night; Edward realized he was asleep only as he cleaned up the wound he made, and the boy did not stir when his tongue made contact with his neck. Ed furrowed his brow, concernedly placing a hand upon his chest, feeling for a pulse. To his relief there was one—not a strong one, but a pulse nonetheless. The exhaustion mixed with being drained of a decent amount of blood had taken a toll on his body, forcing him to finally get his much-needed sleep at last. Edward closed his eyes and hugged his little brother tightly, whispering yet another pained apology in his ear before gathering his limp body up in his arms. After laying Al down in his bed, he stood up, looking down at the younger Elric's sleeping figure. The shadows cast off of the falling snow outside the window made him look ghostly in the darkness of the motel room, his red eyes glowing like unforgiving orbs upon a body filled with regret, not with blood.

…`c.n.`…

Riza had fallen asleep on top of Roy last night, her empty mug of tea still lazily grasped in her pale hands, her hair falling across her silent face. Mustang himself had not gotten a second of sleep, for his mind was too scattered and too filled with the Führer's threats. Now the dawn was beginning to rise; Grumman himself would doubtlessly be arriving at Central HQ any minute now, for he was dutifully always the first one in the office in the morning. He dared not move from his place on the couch, however; after having one mug of tea with him, Riza had fallen asleep soon after they had arrived at Mustang's place, still huddled up next to the General, who himself had not even bothered to change completely out of his uniform before cuddling up as well. Now he looked down upon Riza with both adoration and jealousy. Though he loved being so close to her, loved having the privilege of holding her close to his heart throughout the cold winter's night, he only wished he could have been allowed to sleep by her side, instead of worrying in her embrace.

The clock next to him now read six am; the sun was refusing to rise completely due to the snowstorm's thick cloud cover. Though it still felt like the night, Mustang knew he and Riza—Lieutenant Hawkeye now, actually, for formalities must be kept up at work—had to rise to face another day in Hell.

…`c.n.`…

There is was again; that damned feeling that somebody was watching him. Führer Grumman looked around his office for the umpteenth time, feeling both overly wary and stupid for feeling such a way, despite the possibility of the murderer still being abroad…

"…Führer Grumman, isn't it?"

Grumman lifted his head from his desk and narrowed his eyes at the figure standing in the shadows before him.

"Who are you?"

"Who you've been searching for, of course."

Grumman's eyes widened as he opened his mouth to respond, but instead found himself letting out a gargled scream, choked by his own blood. He did not even see this kind of death coming, did not even think to ponder the word. And yet, as his spectacles slid off of his nose, blackness began to ease over his pupils, silencing his world into complete and utter night.

_Damnation's whore_

_Is looking for a victim tonight…_


End file.
